


Vindicated

by Kayasurin



Series: Though Heaven May Fall [3]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Don't want to spoil anything, F/M, M/M, Possible smut, So not many tags, picking up the pieces, relationship troubles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:32:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayasurin/pseuds/Kayasurin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vindicate: ... 4. (Roman law) to bring an action to regain possession of (property) under claim of legal title; 5. (rare) to claim, as for oneself or another; ... 7. (obsolete) to set free.</p><p>Jack's used to being broken, but now he has people that seem to care about him. A year after meeting the Guardians, exactly how is he supposed to pick up the pieces?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Issues

Fangs dug into his forearm. Aster squealed. He pulled back, grabbed a handful of fabric, and shoved.

If Jack hadn't opened his mouth, Aster would've lost a chunk of flesh. The winter sprite hit the ground hard. He scrabbled a bit, then spat something spiky and German. "You're bleeding!"

"No, really?" Aster pressed down on the wound. Jack's fangs had gone in deep, but at least the bloke had sliced with the muscle instead of across. So nothing had been severed, as such. Just gashed open so he could see bits that shouldn't be seen.

Jack crouched down next to him, and then pulled off his cloak. He wrapped the fabric, which felt a little like heavy silk, around Aster's arm. "C'mon. Do you have a medical kit?" He paused to roll his eyes. "Wait, why am I asking, this is you. You probably have twenty-some odd kits, all packed away neat and tidy."

"I'm not _that_ bad."

"Fifty-three never-used chamber pots from the Warring States era," Jack said. "C'mon. I'll find the med-kits, you get to sit with your arm elevated."

Aster hissed at him, but stood up. They shuffled their way to the Burrow, going slowly. Well, not exactly slowly, but slower than usual. Normally they raced each other to the front door. Whoever won didn't have to do dishes.

This time, they walked. And Aster, at least, had to cut his stride short so Jack could keep abreast.

He got settled at the kitchen table, and watched his roommate and lover move around, looking for the medical kit Aster kept on hand. It'd seen a bit of use this past year, more than some previous decades. Jack had nightmares, and tended to wake violently. And when he woke Aster up by clawing and kicking, Aster tended to respond in kind before he'd realized it.

Mostly the worst that happened were a few scratches, some bruises, and once a particularly bad sprain.

"There's seventeen. Which isn't so bad." Jack plunked an unfamiliar box down on the table, and raised his eyebrows. "You've never seen this before, have you?"

"It's vaguely familiar." He'd been the one to go out and get it, after all. Just, he couldn't remember exactly when. Or when he'd last seen it.

Jack hummed in reply, and started going through the box. He pulled out a sewing needle, one meant for use in hospitals, and the proper thread. "This will hurt, there's not really any painkillers in here."

"Not really?" Didn't mean there was _none_.

"You said you were allergic to that Non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug stuff." Jack held up a bottle of ibuprofen, and rattled it. "Oh, look, NSAID. I'll make you willow bark tea after."

He was getting stitched up without pain killers? "Yeah, why not first?"

"Your blood is soaking my cloak."

Soaking was a bit strong, but there was a bit of red there, yeah. "Fine." Blood loss would make conversation difficult, anyways. "Go on, then."

Jack huffed, and got set up. His methods were a bit older- the already sterilized needle was sterilized a second time in a candle flame- but he had steady hands. Even when Aster started flinching- no matter how many times you got stitched up, there was something disturbing about the needle going in, pulling through, and then coming out- he managed to do a straight line. More or less. It followed the wound, which curved a little.

The only nitpick Aster had was that Jack hadn't shaved or otherwise removed the fur from around the wound, and he'd actually stitched the layer of muscle just under the skin. Mind, the thread was that self-dissolving stuff, and Aster healed fast enough that the wound would be gone in a few days, so it wasn't anything to complain about.

Jack packed the supplies away, then cleaned up the blood and ruined cloak, without a word. Only after he'd given Aster a cup of willow bark tea did he sit down, and even then, he kept mum.

"So what was that?" Aster asked. A few gulps of tea burned his tongue, but it felt like it also started working immediately. Willow bark wasn't as strong as Tylenol, even, but he could stomach it. "I thought-"

"I've told you I don't like being touched." Jack pressed his hands against the table. He stared at them. It was interesting; finally seeing his face after an entire _year_ , except Aster was in a mite bit of pain too much to care.

Jack's hair was still faintly pink.

"There's 'don't like' and 'trying to kill you', and guess what? You hit the second today."

Aster finished off his tea, and Jack immediately got up and refilled the cup. Good thing too, because aside from the arm, now Aster had a headache.

This wasn't how he'd figured things would go. He'd known Jack had problems when he'd invited the bloke to move in with him. He just hadn't realized how _many_. Between sleeping in trees and constantly checking it was alright to use Aster's stores to make their meals, it just made the Easter Bunny want to wrap his lover up and protect him from every last bump and scratch. The nightmares were concerning, but when Sandy and Pitch weren't using their magic, dreams were just a way for the mind to assimilate information. The monster hunts- well, Aster went along with about three-quarters of them, and some of them were primarily his.

The absolute aversion to being touched by Aster? Yeah. That was getting worse than merely annoying.

They slept in the same nest- but Jack insisted on being all wrapped up in that cloak of his. Jack never even rolled up his sleeves, not even on the hottest days. He'd touch Aster, but when not giving a hand- or blowjob, that was rare. He didn't seem to do more than tolerate hugs, or an arm around the shoulder, and last time Aster had tried caressing his cheek, Jack had pulled away.

"I don't know what to do with you," he admitted.

Jack frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You're giving me mixed signals! About every night you grope me, but I try to do the same and you-" He gestured at his bandaged arm. "I don't get it. Is it the fur?" It was always the fur. Every other relationship, it had always ended up about the fur.

"I like your fur." Jack picked at a cuticle. "I just... don't like being touched."

"Fine. Just- fine." Aster set the cup down hard enough it cracked. "I've got eggs to paint. Only a week left to Easter, and too much to do."

He absolutely didn't slam the door behind him on the way out.

* * *

Jack glared at the door, and then down at his hands. He hadn't _meant_ to. He'd just... reacted. Aster'd had him pinned, and it'd felt good for all of half a second.

Then he'd panicked.

At least he hadn't gone for the rabbit's throat. That wouldn't have been good.

He stood up, and looked around the kitchen. The _main_ kitchen, as a matter of fact; Aster had dug himself four, just making a new one whenever the old one got too full (or was forgotten). The others were slowly being excavated. This one, though cluttered- less after a year of work- was still usable.

The tea cup was a loss. It fell apart when Jack picked it up. That was alright. Aster had something like a hundred more just like it. The pieces went into the trash, and Jack started cleaning up the kettle.

What was he supposed to do? Aster wanted... things Jack couldn't give him. Not that Jack didn't _want_ to- he just couldn't. He tried. He'd let down his empathic shields, rile Aster up so he could share in the desire and affection and lust, and then Aster would touch him and everything would just fall apart. He'd have to pull back, before he could do exactly as he'd just done. If Aster knew all the times Jack had come close to tearing at the rabbit's soft underbelly, or going for the throat...

Well, Jack would be sleeping in more trees.

And wouldn't be welcome in the Warren anymore.

The problem was, he didn't know what he was doing. He remembered his parents, he remembered his sister, but- well. He was in a relationship with an alien that just so happened to look like a giant, bipedal rabbit and happened to be older than the entire _planet_. Somehow, he had a feeling there was a slight disconnect between his parent's romance and his, and besides. The problem wasn't courtship. The problem was, eh, the homerun.

There weren't that many dishes to wash, and after wiping the table down a second time, not much else left to clean, either. He picked up his cloak, and stared at the blood staining it.

Whatever the cloak was made out of, it had its limits. The blood covered a good third of it, at least half of the hood, and while normally he wouldn't care, it was _Aster's_ blood. And his fault. He'd have to wash out the blood, and if that didn't work, he'd have to give up the cloak.

The skin between his shoulders itched. He was _used_ to his cloak. He was used to being unseen; sure, people saw a general shape, but the cloak ensured no one knew exactly what he looked like, or even if he was, well, _male_. Not for certain.

It was hiding.

Jack bowed his head. He really needed to work on that.

He left the cloak in a hip bath of cold water, to soak. He caught himself staring at the slowly spreading red stain in the water. He needed something to do, something that wasn't just... nothing.

Jack headed for Aster's library.

It meant going through three of the five sitting rooms, which had been dug and filled at different eras. It was certainly an interesting trip; you couldn't just walk through the rooms. Filled meant filled, to the point where Jack had to climb over furniture. Everything was organized, too. He had to wonder exactly how Aster hadn't noticed he'd collected so much... stuff... or why he was so surprised when it was pointed out to him.

No one _needed_ ninety-three coffee tables, let alone when they were stacked up so you couldn't even use them anyways. Never mind all the chaise lounges, easy chairs, or grandfather clocks.

Thankfully, the clocks hadn't been wound in forever, and didn't work. Jack would have done something about them if they'd all chimed at once to announce the hour.

The library was the only room of in the Burrow of its kind, though plenty of other rooms were piled high with books. This was the room Aster kept all of his old notes, all of the precious manuscripts, the valuable only-one-of-its-kind books, the tomes he'd managed to save from library fires and thought lost. It was a good place for research, though everything in it was a minimum of a thousand years out of date.

Peaceful, though.

Just not what he needed.

Jack managed to while away several hours, just reading over some of Aster's old notes. They were fascinating; diagrams of mechanical devices (heavy on an egg theme; clearly, some things never changed) with neat bullet points going over everything that would be needed to make said devices, and in what order, and basically the sort of thing you'd expect to see in a patent. Apparently Aster had once filled his Warren with the devices, though Jack had found no evidence of them. Aster hadn't said why all his gizmos and gadgets had vanished, but Jack thought he could guess why.

Aster was the last of his kind. Even for the Guardian of Hope, several _billion_ years was a long time to wait for survivors to show up. He'd given up, gotten rid of all signs of his former culture- presumably- and gone native. Even his stone sentinels were powered by magic, not technology.

Jack set the notes back where he'd found them, and headed back out to the kitchen to make dinner.

He liked cooking. It was something he'd missed over the past two, three centuries. He'd cooked when living with Jokul, and even a year on now he was still pretty much willing to kill for a loaf of bread. Certainly, everything seemed to taste better when it wasn't raw.

Aster wasn't very picky. He had some foods he just couldn't or wouldn't eat, but those were typically due to his species. Meat, obviously, was out, though he could handle dairy, but not eggs. Jack had no idea if that last part was ironic or not. Otherwise, he ate what he was given, and seemed to enjoy every culinary experiment.

At the moment, Jack didn't feel very creative. Casserole it was, then.

In the end, he had to take a plate out to Aster. The rabbit grunted, and jerked his head to the side. "I'll eat it later."

When Jack went to bed, Aster was still out on the hill, painting.

And when he woke up in the morning, the food was still uneaten.


	2. Three conversations Aster has about his relationship...

**...And one he doesn't**

**Summer Solstice**

"It's not my birthday."

A golden cake, covered in so many candles it bristled like a porcupine.

"It's not my birthday and cut it out."

Sandy grinned, innocent as a newborn baby. Whatever was Aster doing here? Burgess wasn't his usual stomping ground, when he stepped outside his Warren.

"Well maybe I needed a walk." A few hours of walking, actually. And maybe a quick check on little Sophie. She'd been in the nightmare.

Did he want to talk about it?

Aster sometimes regretted giving up his old coat. If he'd had it, he could've shoved his paws into the pockets. Instead he tucked his thumbs under his belt and started walking. It wasn't the same. "I'm still... remembering, mate. Pitch's lair. Wasn't very fun, you know? Sometimes I'll dream, and find myself back there."

Sandy floated along at Aster's shoulder. He patted one tiny hand against a correspondingly massive, furry bicep. He was sorry about that. But dreams- and nightmares- were simply a way for the mind to assimilate information and experiences. The nightmares would pass.

"When? I keep-" Aster closed his eyes. "And when it's not mine, it's Jack's."

Jack's?

He looked away. "Bloke's been staying in my Warren. He's homeless, mate. I'm just giving him a place to crash." He'd only just gotten Jack into the Burrow proper. "He sleeps in _trees_! And falls out half the time, waking himself up and... He doesn't scream. I don't know if that's worse."

Tonight had been one of those nights. Aster had woken up, the memory of iron bars pressing against his shoulders, still not completely awake when an elbow cracked into his ribs. He'd... reacted. Jack hadn't hit the wall, only because he'd fallen too fast and hit the floor first. Aster hadn't even been able to check and make sure his bedmate wasn't bleeding, because Jack refused to remove that cloak.

He hadn't expected things to be easy, or fast. He had expected he wouldn't _hurt_ Jack.

Only he had. So he'd gone walking.

Apparently he'd ended up in Burgess, which worked out. It was good to check and make sure little Sophie was safe in bed and not, for example, caught by Pitch Black again.

Sandy tapped his shoulder, and he looked over. Jack was in a safe place. Somewhere his sleeping mind could deal with everything. Aster was not to feel bad about the nightmares; rather, he should look on them as a sign of healing, and trust. After all, Jack wouldn't be sleeping deeply enough to dream if he didn't feel safe, now would he?

As for his own nightmares, they would pass in time. He, too, was in a safe place, where he could sleep deeply. He, too, would assimilate in time.

"Yeah, okay, makes sense," and the cold, hard knot in his stomach loosened a bit. Didn't make things better, with the whole literally kicking Jack out of the nest thing, but at least that was one worry off his shoulders. "What about the dream where I'm dressed up as that Superman bloke fighting Pitch Luthor?"

Sandy started to laugh.

* * *

**Winter Solstice**

"Mussorgsky?" Aster held up a plate of something decidedly not cookie, and raised one eyebrow. North waved him in. "Not your usual fair, though he sounds Russian."

"The Hut on Chicken Legs is good music, even you must admit so. What is this?" North set down his pen, and poked at the plate.

Aster sat down in a chair, one that had been designed with tails in mind, and shrugged. North looked the most like Coca Cola's impression of Santa Claus these last few days before Christmas, all cuddly, old fashioned grandpa, half-moon glasses perched on his nose and sleeves rolled down to hide the tattoos.

Mind, the two sabers hung up on the wall behind him kind of spoiled the image.

"Food."

"I know this is food, but I asked for cookies. I _demanded_ cookies. This is not cookies."

"Nope." Aster grinned, all lazy contentment. "You're getting all four food groups tonight, Nick."

The phonograph clicked as a new song began. Night on Bald Mountain, if Aster was any judge. Were those songs even supposed to be on the same record? He narrowed his eyes at North. Considering the owner of said record, it was entirely possible that they weren't, and North just didn't care.

North poked again at the meal, and then glowered at Aster. "Yeti know what I like to eat. This? Not it."

"Jack cooked."

"Jack?" North's face did one giant twitch. "Jack is here, cooking in kitchen? And yeti allow this?"

"They're rhapsodising over rhubarb pie."

North mentally chewed over that, and then did some physical chewing when he scooped up a forkful of garlic mashed potatoes ("What is this, a slap chop? _I want one_!" he remembered Jack saying. Jack was the only one in existence that could make a slap chop work properly, so the yeti had given him theirs) and ate it. "Mmph!"

"Good, eh?"

"Yes, very good!" North had another three bites before coming up for air. "Tastes like Katherine used to make."

The sheila was somewhere out beyond the stars, otherwise known as working on another novel. She didn't cook much anymore, but when she had... Aster missed those days. Some of the only things that would get him out of a painting rampage had been news of Pitch Black threatening someone, or Katherine throwing a dinner for the Guardians.

"Jack learnt from his mum, apparently."

"Ah, mothers!" North tried a forkful of peas, which- in deference to the man's carnivore appetite, had been mixed with small pieces of ham- was apparently was just as good as the potatoes. "I must thank Jack's."

"He should know where the grave is."

North shot him a _look_. "Grim speaking, my friend."

"Yeah, well." Aster huffed. "Sorry."

"You are very protective of Jack."

And how had North pulled _that_ out of thin air? "Of course. He's one of us, now. Sort of." Not officially a Guardian. Someone had started a rumor that Jack was their wetworks man now, the assassin they turned to when a spirit they couldn't take on themselves stepped out of line. Aster wasn't sure how inaccurate it was, but there was enough truth to make him uneasy.

"You especially." North started in on the steak, and paused a moment for a rapturous comment in Russian. It sounded lewd. "Jack must teach yeti to cook, I keep finding hairs in my cookies!"

One reason for Aster to stay out of his own kitchen, and it had nothing to do with how Jack had taken it over. "You suggest it, he'll probably find it fun. He's living with me now."

"Da, in your trees, yes?"

"My nest."

North paused, and stared at him over his glasses. "You think this is a surprise? I gave you one bed last Easter."

Aster waved one hand. "I meant permanent like. He's in my nest, organizing my kitchen- plural, kitchens plural, because apparently I have more than one, and when did that happen?" North was laughing at him now. "Jack keeps coming up to me and asking why I've got so much stuff, and I don't know, it just happened. It's all neat and put away so I don't know why he's fussing so much."

"Maybe Jack wants to make home for Bunny comfortable."

That was a nice, warm thought. "Maybe."

"Here, look over list." North threw a heavy scroll at his head. "All names should have naughty or nice written beside them."

"Not my job," Aster said, even as he unrolled the first ten inches. Holy- so many _names_. "Shouldn't you be doing this?"

Nick shook his head, and lifted his fork. "Eating! You can make yourself useful."

Aster started looking, smiling a little at the thought of a winter spirit bossing around all the yeti, cooking because he found it fun, enjoying the romp through the more modern kitchen and appliances of Santoff Clausen. Times like this made the whole thing worthwhile.

Even if he did have to read every single name on this list.

* * *

**Five Days to Easter**

The first indication he had that Tooth was in the Warren, were fingers prying his mouth open.

"Oh, good," she chirped. "You're taking care of your teeth."

"Nngyah!" Aster wrenched his head free, which made something in his neck twinge. "What're you doing here?" He set down his paintbrush, and rubbed at his jaw. Strong fingers on that sheila. Ow.

"I needed Jack to babysit Baby Tooth."

"The mad, adventure seeking one?"

"That's her!" Tooth settled down, and picked up an already painted egg. "This one's pretty. Snowflakes?"

Yes. "If you want to look at 'em that way." There were far, far too many snowflakes on his eggs this year. Someone's fault, and not his. Even if Jack hadn't been doing much in the way of painting.

He might've been thinking on his mate a bit much.

"I like it." She set the egg down, and smiled oddly. "You know... You look better. Not as frantic."

"Still five days before Easter, there's a ways to go yet." He felt better, though. Must've been the food, when he remembered to eat. Nothing like a home cooked meal to give the engine a little fuel.

"So. How have things been going with Jack?"

Now his arm hurt. "Fair."

"Better than I thought."

Aster looked up. "How do you mean?"

Tooth blinked, and tilted her head. "Well, you know. He let me hug him today, that never happens. And he wasn't wearing his cloak!"

"Because there's blood on it."

Tooth shrugged. "He still let me hug him."

Aster grunted, and went back to his painting. "It's not that big a deal."

"It is." She was staring at him, he could feel it. "Honestly, I thought it'd take longer than this. For him to be so comfortable with you."

Aster set his paintbrush down again. "Tooth, he tore my arm open a few days ago. With his _teeth_."

Tooth bit her lip. "That doesn't surprise me. Considering the Snow Queen-"

"What about that biddy? He killed her, I know, but-" Aster cut himself off at Tooth's expression. " _What_?"

"You mean, he didn't tell you?"

Aster closed his eyes. "Tell me what?"

"I think..." She touched his shoulder. "You should talk to Jack. It's not something... I might have misheard, he said it last year, so I might not remember it correctly."

Unlikely, Tooth had an eidetic memory. But she was right. He had to talk to Jack. "Yeah. I- yeah. About the Snow Queen, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Now, how many eggs have you _done_ already?"

* * *

**Five days to Easter**

Aster stumbled and fell into the nest. Almost on top of Jack, but his mate rolled out of the way, a faint smile curving his lips. He looked deliciously tousled and sleepy, an expression too warm for a winter spirit in his eyes. In the dim, practically non-existent light, he looked like a sculpture of silver and marble, moonbeams made incongruously flesh. Somehow, without the cloak, he seemed to take up more space than normal. Or maybe that was just the sprawl.

"Sleeping tonight?" Jack asked, voice husky and low. Something warm pooled in Aster's stomach.

"Apparently. Jack..." He reached over and cupped his cheek. "Question."

"Mm. Maybe later." Jack shuffled over, into him, sharp claws combing through the longer fur on Aster's shoulders. Jack hooded his eyes, and nipped at Aster's collar bones, action that sent sparks singing through Aster's veins.

He was tired, it was late, and his mate was mouthing at his throat, mouth so warm and gentle. Aster could feel the scrape of teeth, the points of fangs and claws on his skin, and didn't care. He reached up and cupped Jack's hip with one hand, reached down to touch himself with the other.

Jack caught his hands, and pressed them back against the nest. "Uh huh," he said, and ducked down.

His mouth was moist and wet and so good, too good. It didn't take much. Even a year of Jack touching him, swallowing him down, had him still about as good as real rabbits for stamina.

Aster yelled, and sagged down, boneless. After a moment, he felt the cushions that made up the nest shift and move as Jack got up.

"...going?"

"Just for a walk," Jack said, still husky. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Sleep."

So he did. When he woke up a few hours later, he found Jack curled at the base of a tree, shaking in nightmares.

There was no sleeping again for either of them after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short, but there you go. Technically, this chapter covers the year between Shadows and Vindicated, in (two) three conversations. Yes, it's another sad chapter. Yes, these boys need to talk.


	3. Arguments and Avoidance

Jack washed the dishes like he was two steps away from smashing them down on the floor. He could afford to. They were clay, likely handmade, and came from a stack of, Jesus Christ, hundreds. Only the most minor of differences between them all.

"Did you not like the meal?" he asked, and set the plate in the dish drainer. Also from a stack of far too many.

"It was fine." Aster rubbed at his eyes. "Just not hungry."

"Like yesterday? You didn't _eat_."

"I didn't have time. Two days to Easter, Jack, there's a lot to do."

"If you don't eat, you won't have energy, and then you'll just collapse." Jack pulled his hands out of the water before he could freeze it.

Aster smacked the table. He was glaring when Jack turned around. "I'm fine. I've been doing this a lot longer than you've been alive."

"It's astonishing you haven't died yet."

Suddenly there was six feet and one inch of angry, bristling fur looming over him. "It's not like you care!"

Jack growled, and poked Aster in the chest. "Watch it. I care!"

Aster grabbed Jack's wrist, and his fingers were stronger than iron bands. Jack couldn't pull away, no matter how he twisted. "Stop that."

"You have to-" He was having trouble breathing. "Let _go_!"

"Or you'll tear my arm open again?"

No. Yes. Something. "Just- don't touch me!" He kicked at the side of Aster's knee, and pulled back. He didn't know if he'd weakened Aster's grip, or if the rabbit had let go, but there wasn't the expected resistance and he fell back against the counter. He hit the edge, hard, and gasped.

He twisted around and didn't fall. Clutched the counter in a death grip, claws digging into the worn wood, but he didn't fall.

"Jack?" Aster asked, all the anger suddenly gone. He reached over, and the tips of his claws brushed over Jack's arm.

He flinched. It was the wrong reaction, he knew it, but he did. He pulled back, away from really, what had to be the best thing that had ever happened to him, the best person he'd ever known.

Aster just slumped over, ears to toes. "You don't trust me," he said, all quiet and hurt. It would have been better if he'd been shouting. "You- I keep trying, and you don't... I'm sorry, Jack. I can't do this. You don't trust me, and I need that."

Jack barely heard the door closing behind Aster. Just slid down onto his knees, on the kitchen floor, frost crackling on his clothes when he moved.

He didn't know how long he stayed there. When he moved, thin layers of ice flaked off, hoar frost on his hair shedding with every step.

Somehow he found the paper, and the old fashioned quill and ink. He wrote... something, no idea what, he couldn't _think_. Left the note on Aster's pillow in the nest. Grabbed his staff.

Left.

The Wind snatched him up and threw him high. High enough it was hard to breathe. That was good, that was great, and the air was so cold. Jack drew the cold to him, wrapped it around his shoulders like the cloak he didn't have, and screamed.

It felt good, so he did it again, and again, until his voice was hoarse and his throat raw and he was sobbing. Curled up in a loose ball, tossed from one air current to the next by the Wind, each sob tearing its way free of his chest with ice cold claws and too much pain.

He was trying. He was. It just. Wasn't enough.

The Wind set him down some indefinite time later, he didn't know. It was gentle, but the Wind didn't have a body. He only bounced a few times. He'd hurt worse. Recently, even, as such things went.

Jack pushed himself up, and leaned on his staff. The area looked familiar, he just couldn't place it. Trees, mountainside, a little village off in the distance, a cave up slope a bit... Oh.

"Here?" he asked the Wind.

She blew pine needles in his face.

"Right." For lack of anywhere else to go, he headed up to the cave. He hobbled a bit, leaning on his staff like an old man.

It wasn't anything like he'd remembered. Everything he and Jokul had owned had been things that could be carried away, and even if Jack had left it all behind, obviously someone had come after him to clean up. There were leaves on the cave floor, spider webs up on the walls, and surprisingly no wild animals were currently living there, though there were signs that everything from foxes to bears had bunked where Jack used to sleep.

It'd been something like two centuries; he couldn't say he was honestly surprised.

He moved over to a shallow depression in the rock. It had been... if his memory was right, it had been Jokul's bed, once. The depression had been filled with furs, to make a kind of mattress for the old man.

_Jokul was propped up in his bed, little more than a heap of furs and rough cushions on the ground. He looked every day of his five-hundred-plus years. His once thick, if oddly styled, hair was little more than a few straggling hairs now, and his formerly bright blue eyes were clouded and narrowed in a permanent squint. He'd lost almost all his weight, so the bones showed through clearly, and age had claimed most of his teeth, his magic, and his ability to stand unaided._

_He would die, and soon. He was determined to finish writing down everything he could remember in his notebook, first. There hadn't been enough time for him to teach Jack what Jokul felt he needed to know; it had only been something like twenty years since they'd first met. As such, when Jokul began to deteriorate, he began to write. In German, the language they both shared._

Jack swallowed. He missed the old man. There were days, weeks, even months where he'd go without thinking about the spirit, his teacher, but then something would remind him and the pain would be as fresh as the day Jokul had died.

_Jokul touched the leather cover of his book. "I have finished it."_

_Ah. His death, then. "You know I will do whatever you require, say whatever you need me to say."_

_"That, we do not need to speak of." Jokul patted Jack's knee. "No, this speech is of you. Of what you are to do, when I have gone on to Odin's Hall."_

_Jack tilted his head. "The same as you have been teaching me. Warding Winter, dealing with the evil that falls within my domain."_

_The old Norseman tried to slap him upside the head, but couldn't lift his arm high enough. Jack smiled, though he didn't feel like it, and bent forward so he could reach. Jokul's slap was more like a brush of fingers against Jack's wild mane than anything. It was the thought that counted._

_"This is not your territory," he said. "You are here as my apprentice, but there are others..." He paused to catch his breath. "There is a man. Not winter, as we are, but of the season. Enough to count. He comes from Russia, and is spreading to Christian held lands. Sinterklass. He spreads light, and the darkness weakens."_

_Jack nodded; that was one of the first things Jokul had taught him. It wasn't only the two of them that fought evil; it was every spirit that set out to bring hope and joy, wonder and dreams, or every spirit that rescued humans in danger or just kept them out of danger in the first place. Jack's ability to make people laugh, even if they didn't see him, with nothing but a snowflake or snowball, was just one more weapon against evil._

_"Sinterklass... Saint Klaus?" he asked, translating the Dutch to English. The language felt clumsy on his tongue._

_"Santa Claus," Jokul corrected. "But yes. Too, the Winter Court becomes active again."_

_Jack shuddered. The Winter Court- well, Jokul had told him a little. Enough to give him nightmares. "They do not tolerate outside activity," he said. Like the hexenwolves or loup-garou, the necromancers and black witches. If they didn't belong to the Winter Court, they were hunted down and killed. Eventually._

_"You stand opposed to all the Court holds dear," Jokul said. "And you are young, Jack. Perhaps when you have obtained your power, then you can fight them, but as you are now they would try to bring you into their fold. However it takes."_

_"What do you think I should do, then?"_

_"Return to your land of America. Make of it your own. The Winter Court has no hold there, most of the evil must travel by human across the sea. You could block them, Jack, keep them from your territory from the start."_

_It's an idea, and it has merit. It is a goal, something he can focus on through the decades (eventually, centuries) until it is his time, too, to die. Jack lowered his head, and breathed slowly in and out through his nose._

_He will live for his duty, he decided. It is what Jokul did. "I will," he said, and looked up. "After."_

_"After." Jokul rested his hand on Jack's knee again. "It won't be long."_

_It wasn't. The next morning, Jokul was gone, nothing but a scattering of snowflakes left where his body had been._

_Jack gathered up his staff, the book, and nothing else. He called on the Wind and headed towards North America at all speed._

Only he'd lost Jokul's book. A deal with Pitch. He'd been caught by the Winter Court, tormented by the Snow Queen and her King, and now...

His breath caught. Jokul's book. What if- there might be _something_. Anything! Something that could help him trust Aster, so that... So that he could give his rabbit what he needed. Because then, then maybe- If Jack could give Aster sex, they could stay together. They wouldn't argue anymore.

Well, no, he knew it wouldn't be _that_ easy. He had to get his book back first. Pitch had it. Jack had neglected to look for it last Easter, too concerned with getting Sophie back to her grandmother, helping the Guardians out of the cages, concentrating on his little plot to weaken Pitch. It would have been a perfect moment, otherwise. In addition, there was plenty of information in Jokul's writings that Jack could say he was uncomfortable leaving in Pitch's hands. The Fetch, for example. He doubted Pitch could have created the creature without reading the book first.

Especially not a Fetch that looked like Jack.

It wouldn't fix things between him and Aster, but getting the book back might give him an idea as to where to start. Jokul had been the smartest person Jack had ever known, with five centuries as a winter spirit to his name. Surely he'd have known what would happen if Jack ever got into a relationship. Surely he'd have written all sorts of little warnings, suggestions, and personal stories, ways to get around what must have been normal to all winter spirits. Jack couldn't imagine any of the others of his ilk being eager for sex.

There had been the Snow Queen... but she'd been crazy even _before_ he'd killed her all those times. She didn't count.

No, the aversion to sex had to be his own nature. That didn't mean it had to stay that way, or he couldn't control himself for Aster's sake.

Jack stood up. He'd get Jokul's book back. It'd be quick. He'd give Aster a little time to calm down from his Easter frenzy, read the book in the meantime, and then return to the Warren. He'd give Aster what he needed- though just why he wasn't satisfied already, Jack didn't know. Maybe it was a Pooka thing.

Maybe it was a spring spirit thing. Spring was all about new beginnings and life and all of that, right? Sex. Maybe that was it.

Jack stepped out of the cave, and looked out over the mountainside while he thought. Pitch's lair could be anywhere in the world, but he knew one place there was an entrance. Just outside of Burgess.

He did consider swinging by Tooth's Palace to pick up Baby Tooth, but... No. The little fairy might be needed by her mother. Tooth was making use of Baby Tooth's abilities at finding anyone, anywhere.

Jack could find Pitch Black on his own.

"Wind!" He called. "Take me back to Burgess!"

* * *

The Wind dropped him off outside Jamie's house. Jack took a minute to check in on the children; it was night, and they were both asleep, golden dreams barely visible around their heads. Jack grinned at the sight, and then frowned at one wall in Jamie's bedroom. It was covered in pictures. Most were odd, discolored and blurry, though a few...

He nearly fell out of the air. They were pictures of the Guardians! Magical creatures didn't show up all too well on film, unless they were more mortal than not- like Jamie's grandmother, the former Huldra now called Brenda.

Jack had his own camera, though it was in Aster's Burrow at the moment. It generally took about ten tries for even one photo to turn out. The rest looked like 'ghost photos', which were really just pictures of nature spirits or something wandering around. Jack hadn't run into any true ghosts yet, the kind that could walk through walls and were lingering shades of dead people. Rusalkas, and a few ghostly-type creatures he didn't know the species of, yeah, but no _ghosts_.

Jamie appeared to have taken a lot of pictures, and with a digital camera, or maybe one of those new picture phones you could carry around in your pocket. The kid thought a lot of the things, though the one he had now would make a terrible weapon. If you threw it, it wouldn't even cause bruising.

Jack huffed, and headed for the forest. He had a Nightmare King to threaten.

He got all of five steps out of Jamie's backyard before he was grabbed.

He was shoved in a sack.

Understandably, Jack panicked.

He yowled and clawed the heavy fabric of the bag. It tore like silk beneath his claws. Then it just tore open from his weight and thrashing.

Jack swung his staff before he'd even hit the ground, and iced the first attacker to a tree. The second had its legs kicked out from under it, and was iced to the ground.

Then he paused, and looked at them. Yeti. " _Phil_?"

The yeti iced to the ground snarled something nasty at him.

"Oh, you're fine. It's not even magic. Give it a minute to melt and then flex, you'll be free." Jack leaned on his staff. "What does North want? I'm busy?"

Phil grumbled something.

"Sorry, don't speak yeti. Look, tell North that whatever it is, it'll have to wait. I've got things to do. See ya!"

He left the two yeti where they were, and continued on in the forest. If he remembered correctly, the entrance to Pitch's lair would be somewhere in here...

It was the right clearing. There was a broken, wooden bed frame in the middle of the space. There was a general feeling of unease, the sensation of watching eyes and shadows just a little too big and dark. Granted, it _was_ night time, but still.

The entry way to the tunnel, however, that was missing.

"Maybe I have to knock," Jack muttered to himself.

A large hand clamped down on top of his head.

He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'll just apologize right now for the jumbo flashback (to Fallen) in this chapter. That said, yay, chapter! And yeah, the boys are going to continue to not talk, because they're. Well. Being stubborn and silly and it's drama, people. I don't even watch soap operas! Where am I getting this "no talking to each other" bullshit?


	4. Easter

He painted methodically, with none of his usual, frantic haste. He'd done good work so far, he was actually a bit ahead compared to other years. He could slow down; do the last few googies up special. After last year, the more specials he had, the better. There weren't too many lights on his globe at the moment.

Besides, the more he had to think about what he was painting, the less brain space he had left to think.

Aster had always hated arguments like that, between lovers. It was one reason why he'd never gotten permanently hitched back when there'd been other Pooka. The first sign of conflict and he'd typically bolted. The people that knew you best, lived with you, loved you, knew how to hurt you the worst. He was fine with physical danger; mental, emotional, that was where he faltered. Jack was the first person he'd ever really gotten serious about.

Not that it seemed to matter, because Jack... He sighed. He shouldn't have said what he'd done. He did trust Jack- with his life. With his heart... that remained to be seen.

They could have a relationship that would be better as friends. It'd happened before- plenty of times before in Aster's history, really- and it'd happen again. He didn't _want_ that, but... Well. Sometimes that was just how things played out.

He set down the egg, and reached for another. It skittered back, and bounced on its toes a few times.

Aster raised his eyebrows, and looked up. The Aurora Borealis (subtly different from the Aurora Australias, and not at all appropriate in the Southern Continent, North) blazed across the sky.

"Really?" he asked. " _Really_?" He stood up, and glowered at the ribbons of colored fire. It better not be Pitch again. At the moment, he was more than willing to tear someone's head off and use it as a football. Maybe field hockey, that might be violent enough.

"Well," he huffed, and thumped a tunnel open. "Might as well see what he's on about."

He took the direct tunnel to the North Pole at speed. He'd run it so many times he could do so blindfolded, both ways. Not that he would. As fast as he could go, one mistake could easily result in a broken neck. That? That would not be fun. Shape shifter he might be, and able to heal catastrophic injury and all, but it took time to fix up all the various nerve endings and centuries for the intermittent numbness to go away. That one time he'd had to re-grow an arm? That had been a crappy few centuries, and the thousand years after he'd given up and slept through all the pins and needles of his body adjusting to, you know, having a limb re-grow.

Just because he _could_ , didn't mean he _wanted_ to.

And he definitely didn't enjoy the process.

Aster shook his head, and reached the end of the line, so to speak. He popped up onto the surface, and swore at the bitter cold. He might've been shacked up with a winter spirit, but screw it, _cold_. Jack at least had the decency not to dump an _arctic blizzard_ on the Warren.

Jack... For a moment the cold didn't matter so much. The snow melting on his fur wasn't that important. He'd have to apologize. Really. He had a temper and this close to Easter he was under stress to make sure everything worked out. It was a reason, not an excuse, and Jack, well, he didn't know Aster enough to know when the Pooka was yelling just to let off steam, not because it was the truth.

He tugged on his bandolier until it hung just right, and headed for Santoff Clausen.

The yeti that opened the door- _not_ Jack's most hated guy Phil- had a blanket warmed and waiting when Aster came in. Aster smiled faintly when the yeti draped the blanket about his shoulders. "Thanks."

The yeti grumbled something back, and shut the door.

There was really only one place to meet the other Guardians, especially here. At the globe.

_Santa's_ globe was covered in bright lights, Aster saw. He grunted under his breath. Of course it was. Christmas had arrived on time and with lots of presents for all children, even the mildly naughty. Belief in the old human was steady, maybe even a little up, from the year before.

Not that he was jealous. With the eggs he'd prepped for this year, he'd get his believers back and then some.

"Bunny!" Tooth flew up and grabbed his head in a hug. He got a feather in his eye. "Are you alright?"

Sometimes he thought Tooth was the empath, not Jack. "Fine. Just stress."

"Ah, and that is why I called everyone," North said. He frowned, and craned his neck to look behind Aster. "Jack is not with you?"

"No." Aster cleared his throat. "He's, ah. Not technically. Don't know if he even saw the aurora."

"Ah." North leveled a knowing look at him, one that said " _I know that you know that I know that you know that I know you have a temper and do not deal well with stress. This had best not go on for very long or I will use every bit of blackmail I have on you_."

North could say almost as much with a look as Sandy.

Who was trying not to fall asleep where he floated. As usual.

"So why'd you call?" Aster hitched the blanket up further around his neck. "I've got work."

"I thought we'd help! With painting and egg hunts!"

Aster blinked. Even some of the elves stopped what they were doing and stared at North.

"Help with _my_ holiday?" he asked. "Do I horn in on yours, try to get a present delivering rabbit myth going?"

North frowned at him. "Bunny. Last year, we all learnt how much work you do. Am not saying is not admirable. It is, you do all on your own without even help of yeti. This year I thought we simply would make things easier on you."

"Two days before Easter."

"Ah, well. All was done in one day last year-"

"Last year most of the prep work had already been set up before you called us out on Pitch." Which had been valid, but still. Annoying. "Thanks, but no. I've got to get back."

"No?" Tooth asked. "Why no?"

"Because the last thing I need is for some ankle biter to see Santa, the Tooth Fairy, or the Sandman putting out eggs and thinking I never did any of it." He handed the blanket off to the door-yeti. "Nice thought. But _no_."

He stepped out into the cold before any of them could answer. Hadn't North even considered- well, no, it was North. If the problem couldn't be smacked with a sword to fix it, he'd punch it instead. Good man, great fighter, best friend, just not long on the brains department. That was what Tooth and the yeti were for, apparently.

Aster ran all the way back to the Warren.

He hadn't been gone long. Maybe two hours, including the time to get back and forth. Not bad, considering the distance between the North Pole and his hidey-hole under and in Australia's mountains. Mind, he took a more direct route, tunnels under the oceans and all, but still.

There was enough time to step into the Burrow and make a quick apology, he decided. Only Jack wasn't there. Aster didn't look _too_ hard, there were rooms he'd forgotten he'd dug, but a quick look didn't reveal any winter spirits. Jack was either in one of the harder to reach parts of the Burrow, or he'd gone out.

He reached up and ran a hand over his ears. That was... well. Fine. He had work to do anyways.

* * *

He watched the egg hunts in Burgess. Pitch's lair had let out in the forest nearby. It was a perfectly reasonable location to guard. It had absolutely nothing to do with a little blonde haired sheila that somehow managed to con him into joining her tea parties. Nothing at all. Obviously.

It... didn't go so well. Jamie and his friends found eggs, but they were the only ones. He didn't think the other kids even _saw_ the googies he'd put out.

Sophie found him, huddled under a bush, hands clenched against the ground as if he'd rip the planet apart through brute strength alone.

"Bunny?" The kid crouched down in front of him. "Boo-boo?"

"They didn't find the eggs," he said. His heart hurt. "They didn't..."

She wrapped her arms as far around his neck as they would go, and landed a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "Boo-boo better?"

Kids. Aster closed his eyes and chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, you little ankle biter. I feel better."

"Good. Egg!" She held up one of his special googies he'd put out. Good, at least... at least someone had found it. "Pretty!"

"Isn't it just?" He'd done it in shades of blue, green, and gold. Like Tooth's feathers. "You'd best get on back to your parents."

Sophie grinned at him. "Bye-bye Bunny."

The kid didn't understand. He wished he didn't.

Easter had failed last year. And the kids... they didn't believe. They did _not_ believe.

He ran to check the next egg hunt.

And the next.

He covered the planet twice in forty-eight hours. No one saw him. No one except those kids in Burgess. Even the younger sprogs, the ones he'd figured would keep believing regardless of what had happened the year before, _they_ didn't see him. Didn't see the eggs.

Next year, he promised himself. Next year he'd... he'd do something they couldn't ignore! So many eggs they couldn't walk for breaking them underfoot, yeah, that'd work. And then... and then...

El-Ahrairah's ears, he might actually be in trouble here.

He stumbled back to the Warren. He couldn't- he needed to just. No one else. No other Guardians. Alone. Last of the Pooka, always alone, he needed that now.

No. Aster stopped on a hill overlooking his personal veg. garden. No, he didn't need to be alone, he needed Jack. Just Jack. No one else, because he couldn't stand anyone else right now, but Jack... Yeah. Because Jack knew him, and damn it all Aster loved Jack, whatever the winter spirit felt for him back. He didn't... he didn't know what he'd do or say or what Jack could do or say, nothing could make this better right now, but he needed... He needed...

He needed to curl up into Jack, listen to a steady heartbeat and feel the faintly cold fingers run through his fur. It wouldn't fix anything. But he needed it all the same.

He loped the rest of the way to the Burrow.

Jack wasn't in the kitchen. Any of them. Or the sitting rooms, or the libraries, and why did he have so much _stuff_? He only had the one bedroom- nest-room- that he knew about, anyways. Jack wasn't there either.

There _was_ a note.

_I have gone out to find myself. If I get back before I return, please keep me here until I get back. Sorry. Jack._

Aster slumped over onto his side, and curled up around Jack's pillow. He'd gone out.

Well. Aster could wait until he got back, couldn't he? Yeah, yeah he could wait. He would. He'd wait, right here, for his mate to get back.

There wasn't anything else for him to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not EVERYTHING I wanted to get in this chapter, but it was the right place to stop.


	5. Salvage

The hand tightened around Jack's head. He was picked up and then slammed back down into the ground, then swung back first into a tree. He dropped his staff.

He was thrown across the clearing. He bounced, landed, rolled, and this time went chest first into a tree.

It hurt.

Jack wheezed, and rolled onto his stomach. He had to get up. If he was on his feet, he had a fighting chance. If he wasn't, he'd die. Simple as that.

He got onto his hands and knees. Then something grabbed him again.

By the neck this time.

He was thrown across the clearing again, but caught by the ankle before he could slam into any trees. Then whipped around across the clearing. Again. And again. By the arm. By the leg. By the neck, way too many times by the neck.

If he'd been human, he would have been dead. Period.

As it was... Yeah. Not a fight he could win. Time to get his staff and go.

Halfway across the clearing _again_ , he twisted and managed to come down in a three point landing. Close to his staff, thankfully; looked like he'd gone full circle. He rolled to the side before anything could grab him, got one hand on the crook of the staff, and came up swinging.

He iced one of the things. The other twelve stopped and stared at him. Maybe.

It was hard to tell. They were vaguely man-shaped blurs of silver-gray, ranging between eight and nine feet in height. Other than that, he couldn't make out any details. Even the one he'd frozen was hard to focus on.

And the one he'd frozen was melting. Great.

Jack backed up, staff at the ready. His eyes watered with the strain of trying to focus on the twelve creatures. There were downsides, of course. He bumped up against a tree. He shrugged his shoulder against the spindly branch, and took a breath. Time to run.

The branch tightened on his shoulder, and he looked down. Not a branch. Not a branch at all.

He looked up. The Slender Man's faceless face looked down at him.

Jack screamed.

He lost track of what happened after that. Just a bit. Mostly there was terror, and hitting things, and being hit a lot, and icing more things, and. Just. Getting _away_.

He was pretty sure the Wind took down a few trees and dropped them on the Slender Man's head.

It didn't seem to help much.

The Wind snatched him up. The Slender Man grew to match.

Jack screamed again, and iced the damn thing.

Then the Wind threw him up onto another, faster air current, and he shot up past the clouds too fast to breathe.

Only when he was high enough to see the curve of the world below him did his heart stop racing quite so much. The Slender Man! He didn't know what the others were, but the Slender Man... His father had been an only child because of that thing! His grandparents had immigrated to America because the Slender Man had gotten a taste for Overland blood and _liked it_.

And oh, god, Pitch had it guarding the entrance to his lair.

Jack gagged, and looked down. Okay, so, new plan. Do not go after Pitch immediately, go back to the Warren, wait until Aster returned from Easter- what day was it? Jack had no clue, so that was something to check- and then get help. Lots of help. All of the Guardians if at all possible.

Hadn't someone _killed_ the Slender Man? Why was it _back_? And how could he kill it again?

Fire. He'd have to get someone to kill it with fire.

Maybe _napalm_.

He shook his head, and gestured for the Wind to drop him down to fifteen thousand feet, so he could breathe. Humans needed to be at ten thousand feet for comfort and safety, but he wasn't human.

Okay. To the Warren. And since he didn't have rabbit ears or one of North's snow globes, the quickest way was to fly down to Australia, then pick his way through the mountains until he found one of Aster's open sided caverns. It'd take a while, though not as long as an airplane. After all, Jack didn't have to make layovers and could ride the wind straight there, instead of having to stop and refuel all the time.

Unfortunately, he couldn't exactly go against the air currents. It meant he had to go south and east towards Europe, though the Wind could find him the best currents to take him south-south-south east, instead of going too far out of his way. Then he'd have to go south and west to hit Australia.

He saw the movement from the corner of his eye, and turned to look.

It was ten thousand feet tall.

"Australia!" he screamed. The Wind roared, and carried him away as fast as possible.

The Wind dropped him off at the entrance to Aster's Warren the next day. Or something. The International Date Line just confused him and he refused to think about it. He'd seen the sun set and there'd been a really short night and therefore it was tomorrow and not the day after.

Jack rubbed his forehead, and staggered into the Warren.

It looked like Easter. The eggs Aster had painted were gone, and everything was quiet. Jack sighed, and headed for the Burrow. Apparently he'd do some waiting.

Amazing how seeing a childhood demon put things into perspective. Of course he trusted Aster. He'd come running here when frightened, hadn't he? Maybe not immediately, because he'd needed a little time to think, but when push came to shove... After all, he _could_ have gone to North. He _could_ have gone to Antarctica. The Slender Man only showed up in forests, that was part of his mythology. Instead, he'd gone to Australia.

Heh. If the Slender Man _did_ show up, Jack would just chuck a dingo at that faceless face. Maybe a cane toad. Or one of the many, many spiders. That might actually be funny.

And then he'd run. And hide. But laughing all the way.

He stopped and checked on his cloak. Soaking it seemed to have done some good; it was barely possible to see the red, now faded pink, stain. He pulled it out of the water and sighed. If it had been anyone else's blood, he wouldn't have cared. But it was Aster's. He dumped the water out of the old hip bath, and draped the ruined cloak over the clothes line to dry. Maybe he could try bleaching it later.

Jack headed into the Burrow. He stopped just outside the door long enough to brush most of the dirt off his clothes, and pick a few leaves and twigs from his hair. He pulled one slender braid around, and scowled at it. There, a show of trust for Aster. He'd get the overgrown rabbit to help wash his hair.

That would promise to be fun. Aster would never, ever think a torn open arm an overreaction ever again. Deep frozen washrooms tended to change opinions that way.

He did a quick swing through the main rooms, and frowned. It looked like Aster hadn't been in since Jack had left- so, since their spat yesterday morning. The day before?

Damn the International Date Line.

He almost headed to the bedroom, but stopped. Aster wouldn't be there, and he was still too keyed from the Slender Man to feel tired.

He turned to the globe room instead.

It was the one room in the entire Burrow that was free of the clutter of tens of thousands of years gathering _stuff_. It was the only room of its kind in the Burrow, like the bedroom. In the bedroom, the main focus was the nest, while in the globe room, well... The name spoke for itself.

North's globe was made out of a pale silver metal, possibly iron, and the lights of believing children shone white. Jack hadn't seen Tooth's before, but he'd been told that the metal was yellowish- though _not_ gold- and the lights were the color of wild honey. Aster's globe was the same green as oxidized copper, and the lights were white-gold.

There... weren't any lights.

Jack rubbed his eyes, and looked again. There weren't any lights in Australia. Or South America. There were a few lights flickering in Russia, but they went out even as he looked. There were a few lights left in America- and he knew just who _those_ lights belonged to, loyal children that they were- but that was it.

"What... happened?" Jack asked. Though he was sure he knew the answer.

Easter last year... hadn't happened. And- and he suspected the children had gone out this year, but they hadn't expected to find any eggs. They hadn't _hoped_.

And so... they hadn't found the eggs. And so, they didn't believe.

"Aster," he whispered.

He had to do something. The argument didn't matter, the book didn't matter, _nothing_ mattered because if the children all stopped believing, Aster would _die_.

Jack would happily plunge the world into an ice age before he let that happen.

So. What could he do?

Jack closed his eyes, and considered his options. The Guardians wouldn't be able to do much; Sandy could give children dreams, but, well, dreams. They were fragile and easily forgotten. Tooth could use the tooth boxes, maybe, but he wasn't sure that would work any better than Sandy's efforts. North... It wasn't Christmas.

And no one would see Aster.

It was up to him. There wasn't anyone he could ask for help; he didn't think this had ever happened before. Where a very well known spirit lost almost all believers, and was helped out by an unknown and invisible spirit.

He didn't care. Whatever it took. If he had to frost over every window and write a personal message...

Jack opened his eyes and looked at the globe. If he frosted over every bedroom window... and wrote a personal message...

Or even a not-so-personal one. That... that could work.

And an Easter egg, too- or a drawing of one in the frost.

Jack grinned, and lifted his staff. He'd have to be fast. The Slender Man was out there. He'd have to make sure to get every single bedroom window. He'd have to do it at night, because there was only so long into the day he could ensure his frost kept from melting.

For Aster, he'd do it.

* * *

The Wind screamed a challenge, and Jack giggled when the old pine tree smacked into the Slender Man's stomach. The monster went down, the Wind yanked Jack up into the sky, and a good time was had by all.

Well, no, not really. Jack figured the Slender Man didn't appreciate getting whacked by heavy things- trees, mostly, though the Wind had done something with a miniature twister and a parked car- and Jack- Jack was tired. He was past exhaustion and into the high of sleep deprivation. Any minute now he'd start a song and dance routine or something, because yeah, that was starting to make sense.

"No song and dance routine," he told himself. "Wind, where to next?"

The Wind spun him around in a circle, and then dropped him down on Burgess' main street. Which was exactly where he _did_ _not want to be_ , there was a freaking Overland-eating monster after him.

"What, you mean we're done, that's it? All the windows?"

The Wind whistled, and then died down. Suspiciously so. Jack grinned, eyes glittering with a mad terror that threatened to freeze his bones. Great. Time to escape the Slender Man again.

He opened his mouth to do it, to call out, but-

Noise.

Behind him, loud, louder than the roar of a jumbo jet engine. A physical force that actually shoved him forward a few steps, until he staggered into an- owch- pointy, white picket fence. Hip first. It was only _after_ the noise stopped that he realized his ears had briefly shut down in self defense, it had been that loud.

He braced one hand on the fence, leaned on his staff, and started to turn around.

That was when they hit him over the head.

* * *

"Bunny?" The edge of the nest sank down, the pillows and blankets surrendering to North's weight. "Bunny, come, you cannot stay here. To the North Pole, _da_?"

Aster curled up tighter around Jack's pillow. "He'll come here."

North managed to get Jack's note free, though Aster held on so tight his claws tore up one corner of the paper. "He will. So we will leave him a note. But you cannot stay here alone. To the North Pole, my friend, or we will make of ourselves home here. You have the room for it."

A Pooka's Burrow was private, or supposed to be. For family. Gardens were for friends. Aster bared his teeth, though even he couldn't have said if it was a grimace or a snarl. "I'll go."

"Now," North said. He covered Aster's shoulder in one massive hand. Warm, faintly calloused, and nothing at all like what he wanted. "Come."

Aster ended up half carried out of his own Burrow and through one of North's portals. At least he was still bipedal, hadn't shrunk down yet. Maybe he just hurt too damn much to feel weak from lack of believers. Maybe it was a sign of something worse.

North had the portal open onto the Workshop floor, and not outside the way he normally did. The yeti were quiet, the elves clustered together in little groups and stared. Aster felt like a walking, soon-to-be corpse, with some horrific illness that ensured everyone gawked and gossiped.

"In here," North murmured, and they entered a little sitting room. It was done in a mish-mash of styles and ages, with red paper on the walls and dusty brown wood on the floors, green upholstered lounges and one atrociously ugly arm chair. Even as bad as he felt, Aster had to stare at it.

"My eyes hurt," he said after a minute.

"Why does everyone hate chair?"

Tooth smiled faintly at North. "Because it's a crime against color? Bunny..."

He looked down. "I'm alright sheila." He wasn't. She knew he was lying. But he had to say it.

North helped him onto one of the lounges, and he curled up at one end. Tooth settled down next to him, and stared running her fingers through the fur on his back. It felt alright. Not good, but not bad either.

"It'll be fine, Bunny," she said. "We'll find some way to fix this."

"How?"

Sandy floated into the room, and Nick shut the door. Sandy looked at Aster, images flashing over his head. Dreams, memories, wonder; they would help keep hope going until next year. There would be more egg hunts, or perhaps it wouldn't be a yearly hunt that would bring children hope, but something else. Whatever the answer, they would find it.

Aster looked down. Guardian of hope he might be, but he just couldn't feel it at the moment.

North set a bottle down on the coffee table. "Vodka," he said. "We will drink to our woes, and then we will come up with plans after sober."

That... wasn't a bad plan. Aster grabbed the bottle and got it open. "Cheers," he said, and lifted it in North's direction. Then he took a swing.

... There was a reason he preferred ale, those few times he drank. Vodka tasted like something you cleaned your sink with.

He also didn't drink enough to keep up with the others. Tooth had a hummingbird's constitution, which meant she could drink all the Norse gods combined under the table, without even trying. She actually _liked_ their idea of mead, which was strong enough to give a professional lush alcohol poisoning with one mouthful. North, he was a Cossack of the old school, he'd grown up on vodka and worse drinks. Sandy was just flat out addicted to eggnog, and probably couldn't get drunk no matter how hard he tried.

Aster had the double curse of acting like an idiot when plastered, and remembering the whole thing when he woke up. He'd never walked around with a lampshade on his head; probably because he was too busy propositioning the lamp.

Things were quiet for the first little bit, everyone getting their drink on. North and Tooth sank their shots like they were having a contest. Aster contented himself with the occasional sip.

"Where did Jack go?" North asked. He set his bottle of vodka down; it was empty. He reached into a small red sack beside his chair, and pulled out a new bottle.

North used a bag of holding to store alcohol. Well, there were worse things he could use such a thing for.

"Dunno." Aster stared at his bottle. "Out."

" _Why_?"

"Had a tiff." He shrugged one shoulder. "Said plenty I shouldn't have. So he left. Figured it was going to happen sooner or later."

Tooth leaned against him. "That's silly. Jack's crazy about you."

Didn't show it. "Doesn't mean we'll work out. He... doesn't trust me."

Tooth shook her head, and finished her bottle of vodka. "Give me another, I can't listen to this sober."

North raised his eyebrows, but did.

"Bunny," he said. "You trust Jack."

"Putting words in my mouth?"

Sandy caught Aster's eye, and smirked. It wasn't so much as putting words in Aster's mouth, as being very polite about something that went much, much faster than a mortal's three-day whirlwind romance.

"Yeah, yeah." He scowled at the Sandman. "Shut up."

North chuckled. "Is very obvious my friend. First, he lives in your Burrow. Second, he is top of spirit naughty list! Takes many fights, many unprovoked killings, to get there. Have lost count of werewolves and black witches and Baba Yagas Jack is responsible for. Black Aliss! There is one I am glad never to see again!"

Aster raised his eyebrows. "Baba Yaga? He killed her?"

"Them. There used to be three. Now there are none."

_Three of the biddies_?

"Um, and the Snow Queen," Tooth added. "For very good reason."

North frowned at Tooth. "Hush about that. He will kill us if we say."

Sandy waved one hand at them. If they said what?

"Oh, that she tried to rape him," Tooth said. She blinked, and clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oops."

"... What?" Aster asked. "She... tried to what? To Jack?"

That... explained a lot. Everything, in fact. Jack had- and _he_ had- and he knew Jack, Jack was the bloke who'd shrug off a broken leg and never mention it until bone was poking out through the skin, it had to be a lot worse than North and Tooth had been told. And he had pushed, and pushed, and never thought Jack might have a reason to want physical space.

He hadn't made his mate feel very safe, had he?

No wonder Jack had left.

"Pass me some more vodka, North." He drank down the last of his bottle, which was about half of it. "I'm too sober for this."

Easter or Jack, he knew just what he'd have to work on to fix first. But he was going to get good and drunk to start with, because he needed some liquid courage to start. That, and advice from the others. He'd never had an ex he'd wanted to hook back up with before, so hopefully they'd be able to tell him how to go about it.

Or he could get drunk enough that giving Jack the Snow Queen's head seemed like a good idea. You know. Whichever came first.

* * *

Deep below Australia, in a singular room, a green-metal globe turned slowly. The metal was mostly blank. A few glowing lights, but not many. Then, in the world above, dawn began to break.

Lights began to cover the metal, gold and white, so thick the green was almost impossible to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Details on the Slender Man seem to contradict each other. He's a recent Creepypasta invention; he's been around since 13th century Germany. He's only seven feet tall; he's tall enough to 'look' through a third story window. The Gray Man/Men are even less well known; they're from Ireland, the mountains, and they're either invisible or just blend in really well with that area's fog. They tend to freak out people exploring their area, to the point where people run the whole way back to civilization.


	6. Winter Court

Antarctica. A glacial cave. Not alone.

Jack kept his breathing even, eyes mostly closed. The two creatures that had kidnapped him were at the mouth of the cave, apparently believing his impression of one deeply unconscious. He wasn't tied up, stupid of them, though they had enough sense to hang onto his staff. There was something odd about how they were holding it, almost horizontal and with the crook over the one guy's head, but hey, he could barely see anything past his eyelashes.

He didn't know who they were. Not the Slender Man, thank god, and not the other guys, the Gray Men. They wore hooded cloaks, the outside a gray, shiny material and what looked like white fur fringe on the hood.

If that was real fur, Jack was going to kill them slowly.

They weren't watching him. He knew some spirits had astonishing powers of hearing, but hunting spirits, and then the past year with Aster, had taught him how to move silently. Sometimes that had been the only thing to keep him alive. He also knew how to move fast.

Jack rolled to his feet and lunged at his two captors.

And tripped over them.

He rolled and came back up on his feet, hands spread and waiting. Then he had to stop and blink, because... They were three feet tall. Each. Barely taller than Sandy.

The left one, holding his staff, sighed. The right one pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Greetings," the left one said. "Well it is to see you awake. Long you have slumbered-"

"How the hell," Jack said, "did a midget like _you_ hit me over the _head_?"

 The right one growled. "I stood upon my brother's shoulders."

The left one gave the right one a _look_. "Have care for the gravity of this situation, mine kin."

"Oh, shut up."

Jack raised his eyebrows, but didn't relax. It could just be all an act. "Give me my staff."

The left one drew himself up to his full height, so... about even with Jack's waist. "Protocol must be followed."

"Protocol be hanged," the right one said. Seconds before Jack could, even. "Give it to him and maybe he won't kill us both." He leaned forward, and mock whispered, "I'll pay you fifty bucks for ugly's head here."

The left one snarled, tossed Jack the staff, and then lunged for his brother.

Jack caught his staff, and leaned on it. "Midget wrestling," he said. "Or should that be gnome wrestling?"

One of the guys lifted his brother, and threw said brother at Jack. "We're Unseleighe! Not gnomes!"

"Uh huh." Jack looked down at the guy that had almost hit him. "So, you guys going to explain why you kidnapped me? Because otherwise, I'm out of here. I'm tired and want to go home."

They both looked up at him. "The Winter Lady does demand your presence," one of them said. Jack raised his eyebrows.

"If Maeve-" they both flinched, "-wants to talk to me, you could have just said. No need to whack me one." _If_ they were telling the truth. They could have been lying. He didn't think they were, actually, having a few minions kidnap him might actually be something Maeve would do, but only if she had good reason. Maybe.

Hell, he'd only met her twice. What did he know?

"Mortals may pass through the edge of her realm with impunity, but immortals must follow stricter rules," the stuffy one said. He sniffed, and looked down to study his fingers. There was something subtly wrong about them; after a second Jack realized what it was. They were just a bit longer, with an extra knuckle, and the claws that tipped his fingers weren't just thick fingernails. They were _actual_ claws, like a cat's.

"What my chatty twin means," the other one said, "if we don't kidnap you, you can't _leave_."

"Huh?" Jack flexed his fingers. "What do you mean?"

"The immortal imply consent to stay when they willingly step across the border," the stuffy one said. "You are, by definition, immortal."

"Sort of."

Jack hissed. "You realize if you're lying, I'll kill you, right?"

The two looked at each other. "Yeah, sure," the one said. "If we tie you up and carry you, that'll satisfy the conditions."

"You can't carry me. I'm much bigger than you are."

"Unseleighe. We're a lot stronger than we look."

Jack sighed, and nodded. "Fine. But it better be with twine."

"Cordage is what we have, and it be far more fragile than twine," the stuffy one assured him.

As long as it was breakable. Twine was only good for small things or, maybe, tying down someone who wanted to be tied down.

And, it turned out, the two Unseleighe were more than capable of carrying Jack. They tied him with his hands in front, so he could still hold his staff, and then hobbled his feet. That done, they each took hold of an ankle, lifted, and started running.

He whopped, and leaned into the wind of their passing. He'd ridden a few roller coasters- there were always empty seats by the last run of the day- but that was nothing on this! It was like he was running himself, probably about fifty miles per hour, only without the effort.

The Unseleighe started to chant. Ahead of them, the ice began to blur, the air above wavering, as though the sunlight were reflecting off water.

Then they ran through it. And everything changed.

The Unseleighe set him down on the ground, and one untied his bonds while the other brushed him off. Somehow in the space of a second, they'd grown; still short, topping maybe four-eleven without their hoods, but not the point. They also looked subtly different. Their too-long fingers were human length, and the cat claws looked like good fakes. He couldn't remember if their ears had been pointed before, but they were now, the fake ear-tips a lot of Trekkies wore when cos-playing Spock. Their hair was the black of cheap hair dye, and their clothes looked like something bought from a good costume shop.

"What?" Jack asked. "How did...?"

"Mortals roam through here," the one Unseleighe said. "Our King determined it best if we blended in. For this reason the Winter Knight may not pass through here. He is... not subtle."

"He is the one that distracted the whatever it was when we nabbed you," the other Unseleighe said. He grinned. Even his fangs looked like they were the clip-on variety. "Not subtle is an understatement."

That noise? The light? That had been the Winter Knight? Jack shuddered. Yeah, he didn't want to meet that guy. "So, Maeve?"

They flinched again. "This way. And be wary of saying her name. Especially here."

"Follow us."

Jack did. They walked slowly, not making him rush. It might have also had something to do with the crowd.

Maeve's court looked nothing like the Snow Queen's had. The Snow Queen had built her place to look like a medieval castle, particularly the great hall. The walls had been made out of white marble, the floor-to-ceiling windows bordered by black velvet curtains, and the floor had been done in a pattern of white snowflakes on a black background, or maybe black snowflakes on a white background. There had been a few statues, the courtiers had all worn pale colors, and it had been as warm and welcoming as a glacier in a snowstorm.

Maeve's court was obviously winter themed, there was no getting around that, but it managed to be completely opposite to the Snow Queen's. For one thing, her court was outdoors.

In what appeared to be a northern version of a pleasure garden.

The trees were all the evergreen types; pine and cedar, with evergreen bushes to form 'walls' around artificial, outdoor 'rooms'. At the center of each room was a bonfire, and from the smell the wood was all from apple trees. Cauldrons of what were apparently cider, hot chocolate, and chicken noodle soup simmered over each fire. There were wooden benches for people to sit on.

That wasn't all, of course. Everywhere he looked he saw bird feeders, crowded with sparrows and chickadees, blue jays and cardinals and other birds he didn't recognize. Even a few ravens, or maybe they were crows, surprisingly unmolested by the song birds.

And the people! He knew a third of the people he saw were Unseleighe; he could tell by the clothing. The Unseleighe wore costumes that looked torn straight from a hard core, medieval fantasy novel that wanted the dresses without the corsets. The costumes were all in winter colors- blues and pale green, lavender and gray- only saturated and intensified until they _burned_.

The other two-thirds were human. And they _saw him_.

His guides thankfully stopped when people asked to take their picture with him. Whenever they asked who he was supposed to be, he told them the truth. Jack Frost. They _loved_ it.

"Uh, the pictures," he said.

His guides both smiled. Yeah, they were twins. "Our King did something to ensure the mortal technology worked. The images will come out."

"Just don't ask him to explain, unless you have a few years for magical theory."

Jack shook his head, and they continued on.

The laneway opened up, and he saw, down at the bottom of a low hill, what looked to be ice skating. He could tell, even from a distance, that the ice was maybe half a foot thick, resting on the solid ground. So no one could possibly fall through. That was nice. In the opposite direction appeared to be a kind of market, selling hot food- he thought he saw Texas barbeque at one stall- and knick-knacks.

The two Unseleighe took him directly across, and then through a narrow gap in a hedge.

The place changed yet again. Everything looked almost the same as before, only now there were no mortals, and the plants didn't have the carefully groomed look as in the humans-welcome area. There were spirits scattered through the Unseleighe; he recognized a few Russian snow maidens, some ghosts that seemed to have died by freezing, even a few Yuki-Onna. The lawful winter spirits. They all looked away from him, though the Unseleighe at least studied him openly.

His guides were three feet tall again, as were most of the Unseleighe he saw.

He looked through one 'doorway' in the hedge walls, and blinked. He supposed, technically, those were horses. The same way wolves were dogs.

"Through here." His guides stopped, one on either side of another 'doorway'. This one had a proper wooden gate.

"Thanks," Jack said, and opened the gate. "Hey, what happens if a human wanders through that hole in the hedge? It's not like it's guarded."

"Mortals are always welcome in Underhill," the guards said, in freakish unison.

"Oh." Right. Lawful didn't mean _good_ or _nice_.

He stepped through the gate.

Someone had apparently taken a cheap gazebo tent and let it get covered by three or four inches of ice. Then stuck a few colored paper flags on each corner as pennants. There was a throne of sorts created by piling up pillows. Maeve was there, lounging at her ease, listening to an Unseleighe playing the violin. From where he stood, Jack couldn't hear a single note.

Maeve didn't seem to have changed a bit from when he'd last seen her, in his mind. Her hair was still white, her skin was still pale, her eyes and dress were still the same violet as the aurora borealis. Her hair _style_ might have changed; her head was covered in tiny braids, which were then gathered back into a single, thick braid. He couldn't remember if she'd worn her hair like that before.

The violin player was new. He was five feet tall, which might have been magic or might have just been his natural height. His hair was done like Jack's, though his hair was longer. The three braids at each temple were white, while the rest of his hair was either very, very dark blue, or equally dark purple, the kind of shade that looked black in the wrong light. While Maeve's dress was pure medieval, the man wore a modern tuxedo. His coat and pants were the same shade as his hair, his shirt was white, and his cummerbund was the same green as the aurora australis. When he looked over, Jack saw that the man's eyes and his cummerbund were the same color.

Apparently the Unseleighe liked color coordination.

Jack walked forward, staff clenched in one hand. The snow underfoot was either so thickly packed he couldn't even leave footprints, or something weird was going on because he wasn't leaving footprints.

"You could have sent a postcard," he said, once he was close enough not to yell.

Maeve smiled, and stretched out on her pillows. "But then you would not have met my King, Shay." She gestured at the violin player, who set aside his instrument. "He is mine most trusted of creatures, a master bard, master healer, and master assassin."

Jack nodded, and then blinked. "Master what?"

Shay grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Don't think too much about it. I don't use those skills often anymore."

It was the Faerie Realm, time was weird here. "Why do I want to meet him?"

"How did you catch the phobophage's attention?"

"The what?"

Shay dropped down to sit next to Maeve. "Phobophage. Fear eater. Next to mindless- think of it like a mosquito. Only much harder to swat. I believe that one is called the Slender-"

"Don't say the name!"

"Calm. Nothing unlawful can enter Maeve's court. Unless by invitation or kidnapping, that is."

Which implied he was unlawful. Jack thought about it a second. Yeah, he could live with that.

"Technically, I ran into him. Just as technically, he kind of ate my dad's siblings once upon a time."

"Ah." Shay nodded. "Good thing we sent our Knight after it, then."

Maeve gestured at the pillows by her feet. "Join us? There is much we would speak of with you."

Jack hopped up onto his staff instead. "I'm good, thanks. What about?"

"You apprenticed to Jokul Frosti at one time, yes?" Shay continued after Jack nodded. "What did he teach you of our kind, the Sidhe?"

"Not a lot," Jack admitted. "He wrote a book, but-"

"A book?" Interesting, their eyes glowed. "You have it yet?" Maeve asked.

"N-no. Pitch Black took it from me. I was going to take it back, but the Slender Man..."

The two Unseleighe nodded. "I see," Maeve said. "You believe you are capable of taking on the Nightmare King in combat? Yourself, alone?"

Jack snorted. "I was going to sneak in, then sneak out. Fighting wasn't in the plan, though if need be I could probably claw him up pretty good."

"He is guarded inside his lair by creatures called Fearlings," Maeve said. "They are greater empaths than you, and cannot turn their curse off."

Was his hair standing on end? No, because it was too long and in braids. His scalp was crawling though. "So they would've found me."

"Yes." Maeve blinked several times, and the glow left her eyes. "Perhaps we might aid you."

"Why?"

Shay held up one hand. "There is knowledge in Jokul's writings that we desire. In trade, I will aid you in retrieving your tome, and you will allow us to peruse the pages for that which we seek. You keep the book, we keep knowledge. Fair?"

"What sort of knowledge?" Jack asked. "Because if it's anything like how to destroy the Summer Court-"

"Do not mistake me for my twin," Maeve said. "Mab alone is mad enough for that."

Shay folded his arms. "I have friends in the lawful Seleighe," he muttered. "Besides, their king owes me money."

O- _kay_ then. "For what then?" He frowned. "Wait, the Snow Queen's your twin?"

"My equal and opposite," Maeve said. Her eyes were sad. "Since our creation she has ever been the chaos to my order, the suffering to my mercy. And yet, she is my sister, and so even now I care for her in her insanity." She tilted her head, suddenly thoughtful. "I doubt she enjoys it."

"Victorian era insane asylum treatment," Shay said, cheerful.

Jack folded his arms. "That's sick."

"It is far less than she deserves." Maeve stood up. "Now. As to my bargain, Jack Frost. What say you?"

"You never told me what you wanted the book for."

Maeve began walking around Jack. It was... irritating. Aster did that sometimes, and it hadn't ever bothered Jack before, but with Maeve at his back... Well. She _was_ a predator.

"Like my twin, I desire a child of my own." Maeve stopped in front of Jack. Shay stood up and joined her. "And you are the one with the means to give me that child. One way," she said, and slowly looked Jack up and down, "or the other."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A phobophage is a spirit creature that feeds off fear. To do that it manifests a physical body to terrify people.
> 
> Also- just because Maeve is lawful doesn't make her nice. Or even good.


	7. Raid

"You're sure the Winter Knight can handle the- the phobophage?"

Shay looked back over his shoulder. He'd changed his clothing; or rather Maeve had done it for him, with a wave of her hand. He was dressed similarly to Jack, right down to the bare feet and lacking a cloak.

Not that Jack was dwelling too much on his missing cloak or anything.

"The knight is more than capable of dealing with the Slender Man and the Gray Men, have no fear of that." The King's smile was fond. "He's old and canny and has power enough for ten times their number."

Well, if he said so... "Doesn't the Winter Knight have to be, you know, mortal?" Jack frowned when Shay headed towards a structure that looked all the world like a garden shed bought at Home Depot, then attacked with strings of bargain bin Christmas Lights. He peered in; there was a knapsack just inside the door, but otherwise it was filled with, well, gardening tools. The only notable fact was that there wasn't any iron, everything was copper or brass.

"My brother is." Shay slung the knapsack over one shoulder, and nodded towards the entrance to the park. "Let's go."

Jack huffed, and yoked his staff over his shoulders. "Your brother?"

"Adopted."

Now that was just begging for an explanation. "You or him?"

"Both, him more than a bit later than I." Shay laughed. "Until I was seventeen I'd lived all my life with humans. Changeling, I was, and supposed to die, but then my father wasn't having that."

It was interesting, Jack thought. The more Shay talked, the more, well, Celtic his accent got. Not that Jack could tell if it was Old British, Scottish, Irish, or something from an obscure little island. "Changelings stopped happening about two centuries ago..."

"I'm a mite bit older than you are, yes. One or two score, no more."

"Twenty to forty years?" Jack shook his head. "And Maeve is how old?"

"Older than your Aster." Shay stopped at the tollbooth, and scratched a quick symbol on the wood. The symbol glowed, and then the scratches vanished. "Stay close. I did save Maeve's life, with my brother's aid, and for that she made me her King in name and he her champion. Took a bit to win her over in truth."

"You've been a mitigating influence on her," Jack said. Just a little after his mortal lifetime, things started to get- well, not _easier_ , exactly, in winter, but there it was. Innovations in _everything_ started. And the winter season seemed to get a touch shorter, not warmer but softer. He had a feeling the Snow Queen ruled the glaciers and the ocean, while the Winter Lady watched over the land. Of course, he could have been wrong, but it was what he felt.

"There's some that would say that. There's some that would blame it on my brother, for whom honor is first, last, and always."

"You want me to ask about your brother."

They passed through the veil, from the border of Underhill and into the mortal world. It was right by a Sears parking lot in Burgess, in fact. Jack had to stop and stare at the bright red sign a moment. "Huh."

"A neat bit of trickery, that," Shay said, and seemed to preen without, actually, moving. "The exit was set to where you'd entered, and I do doubt your wind can carry me. Let alone carry the both of us with proper speed."

"Yeah, let's not go to Antarctica." Jack turned to Shay. "Do we have a battleplan?"

"Other than setting my brother to the phobophages that guard the king of bad dreams' lair? I thought we would discuss it now, where there are no ears to scurry off and warn him."

Jack frowned, and nodded in the direction of the grade school. "You have spies in your court?"

"Better to know who the spies are and feed them what information I may, than not know who is telling what." Shay paced along half a step behind Jack. "Why do we go here? Is this not a place of learning?"

"Cold iron fence. Uh, can you...?"

"Did I not say I was a changeling, raised by humans? And a priest was my father, too. I can stand iron better than any of my fellows, though not touch it. But throw me over and I will be well."

Jack nodded, and they walked in silence until they reached the school fence. Jack formed a stirrup with his hands, and on the count of three tossed Shay over. The Unseleighe was light, and Jack was in shape, but he could just barely manage it. Sometimes he hated being such a scrawny, little guy.

He had the Wind pick him up and carry him over. Shay smirked at him.

"Alright. First off, let's get this out of the way. Brag about your brother so we can move on. He's a badass mortal that's- how old?"

"Older than I," Shay said. He moved over to the swing set. The chains had been recently wrapped in a heavy duty plastic, probably to keep little fingers from getting pinched between the links, and the seat was also plastic. Apparently that meant he could sit down without any discomfort.

Jack perched on his staff, and directed his most attentively listening expression at the Unseleighe King.

"He is mortal, but then, so are the Bristlecone Pines, which can live thousands of years. My father passed, and in my wanderings to try and find my belonging, I found him. Far from my home, and far from his, we shared a common language of loneliness and the urge to aid those that hated us." Shay swung back and forth. "Have you heard the tale of George and the Dragon?"

"St. George? I've probably heard half the versions."

"The princess was Maeve, and my brother..." He shrugged. "They had to make him human before they would tell the story, though it was not him that won the fair maid." He grinned, eyes glowing faintly. "Indeed, he caught and wed our other knight, who serves as ambassador to the lawful court of summer."

Jack nodded. "So your brother's St. George, or Sir George. He killed a dragon?"

"You might say that."

"And _you_ might say..."

"Fáfnir should have remembered that Jörmungandr is of the sea. Short contest."

* * *

Jack was just as pleased he couldn't see the fight between- between the Winter Knight and the phobophages.

(Jörmungandr, _really_?)

(It certainly explained Shay's confidence in the Winter Knight.)

The fight had gone on since Jack was kidnapped- "Between seven and eight days. At least it hasn't been months, do stop looking at me like that," Shay said- and was still going strong. Though the Gray Men were down to ten members. "George probably ate the others," was Shay's comment.

It left the entrance to Pitch's lair open. Well, open after Shay sung a few lines of an old song for children. "Spooky spooky, very spooky, oh no it's a monster, spooky spooky, very spooky, what's that, it's a witch..." The hole in the ground opened slowly, almost reluctantly.

"I thought you were a _bard_ ," Jack said. The Slender Man hadn't freaked him out quite as much as that supposed singing.

Shay raised one eyebrow, exactly like Spock. "Have you never heard of adding insult to injury? He heard that, I assure you."

"Great, he'll know we're coming."

"But not exactly where. That much, I can do."

Right, Shay wasn't going to be much use in an actual knockdown, drag-out fight. "I am an assassin. I am good at striking from behind, poisoning food and drink, smothering people in their sleep, and otherwise being sneaky," he'd said. "I can at least keep the creepy one from using his powers to any great extent."

Which was going to have to be enough. Jack was better at the sneaky fights, too, but he _was_ better able than Shay to go head to head with someone. Apparently Shay didn't have the Unseleighe super-strength because of the changeling thing, and someone had assumed he'd never need to know how to _actually_ fight.

Well, technically he didn't, but he was limited to being sneaky or bringing the roof down on everyone, which would probably cause damage up among the humans, too.

Jack didn't really want to see sink holes form all over the country, or for those people mildly sensitive to the supernatural driven insane. So yeah, he'd physically beat up Pitch, head to head- and cheat. Shay wouldn't be blocking _his_ magic.

Jack slipped into the tunnel, and Shay followed after.

The place was, appropriately enough, _pitch black_. Jack felt his way like a blind man, poking at the ground just in front of him with his staff. Shay kept one hand on his shoulder. The Unseleighe could, probably, make witch-light, a dim ball of energy that would make it possible for them to see where they were going, but that would tip Pitch right off. Not the goal. If at all possible, they would see if they could find the book. If that didn't work, Jack would have to beat the location out of Pitch. Which would be more fun than he really wanted to admit.

"There is violence in all of us," Shay whispered. "The question is, do you control it, or does it control you?"

Good question.

When they came to a turn- and there were a lot of turns- Shay indicated which way they should go by tapping on Jack's shoulder. It was a bit like navigating a maze, one that kept changing designs on them.

Shay's sense of direction won in the end, whatever the tunnels tried to do. The cavern, filled with hanging cages and what looked like stairs that went up walls and across ceilings, was positively blinding after the darkness. Jack and Shay both stepped sideways into shadows. Normally, Jack suspected such a move would be suicide, letting Pitch know exactly where they were and giving him means to catch them. This time, with Shay projecting _Not Here_ with as much strength as he could, Pitch wouldn't know they had gotten this far.

The cavern looked like it went on for miles, but when they passed the entrance to what looked like a further gallery, Jack realized the stone had simply been carved. It looked like the gallery went on for a mile, but in reality, it was just good art, done so realistically he had to touch it, and his brain _still_ didn't quite believe it.

Freaky.

It became clear, quite quickly, that the cavern with all the hanging cages was little more than a showroom. Shay found a gallery that actually was a gallery, and that seemed a little more useful.

It was a display room. Jack frowned, and looked at the objects in each case as he passed. There was a giant, bloodstained axe, a civil war era pistol, a ragged Nazi flag, and other, less identifiable objects. Including, Jack realized, thirty, tarnished silver coins and what looked like a hangman's noose.

There was a book made out of some kind of leather, and just looking at it made Jack's skin crawl. There were a few crystal knives, what looked like a blackened horn of some kind, a cudgel and whip, and in the end he turned and focused on the floor. He couldn't look at any more.

"There," Shay hissed.

Jack looked up. In solitary splendor at the far end of the gallery, Jokul's Book.

In retrospect, they shouldn't have hurried.

Pitch hit Jack with a punch to the chest, hard enough Jack was lifted off the ground and thrown backwards several feet. Shay managed to duck out of the way.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice a _void_?"

Jack sat up, and shrugged. "Well, yeah. Sorry, Pitch, you're just not known for your brains."

The Nightmare King didn't look all that well. The only reason he wasn't covered in scars was because the wounds hadn't healed enough for that. He'd lost weight, to the point of looking like a skeleton covered with skin.

Well, maybe this was going to be a fair fight after all.

Jack cracked his knuckles. "I came for my property, Pitches."

Pitch hissed, and drew himself up to his full height- and no further. For a second, he looked startled, even frightened, before he went right back to enraged. "What sorcery is this?"

Jack looked over at Shay, who was grinning. "Well..."

That was when the fireworks went off.

"You said a distraction!" Jack yelled over the noise.

"They're very distracting!" Shay yelled back.

Well. Yes. Jack ducked under sparks and bangs and he didn't know what all, and suppressed a flashback to the last time he'd hung out over Niagara Falls for New Years Eve. Watching from the ground- good. Watching from in the air right over the rockets- bad.

Pitch howled, and covered his head with his arms. Jack slammed right into his ribs.

It got into a bit of a melee fight at that point. Jack used his teeth just as much as his claws and fists, which gave the Nightmare King far too many chances to punch him in the face. Then Pitch managed to stand up.

Jack got onto his knees, lunged, and tried to bite Pitch on the thigh.

He missed. Pitch screamed.

"I'm going to need a bottle of mouthwash!"

"The robe was in the way."

"I don't fucking care!"

Shay grabbed the book off its stand, and yelped when the wall behind started to move. "Great, it's trapped."

Jack slammed his elbow into Pitch's cheek. Pitch snarled back, got a handful of braid, and slammed Jack forehead-first into the ground.

Oh, bright lights.

"Fight's over, we have to go!" Shay grabbed Jack's arm, and pulled. He really didn't have Unseleighe super-strength. He could only tug desperately while Jack got to his feet, pausing to claw at Pitch's arm with his foot-claws on the way up.

"Why? Oh."

They weren't nightmares. They weren't phobophages. He didn't know what they were, didn't _want_ to know, and they were focused completely on _him_.

"Time to go," he said, and shoved his magic out in a desperate wave. Ice formed from the air itself, turning into a foot-thick wall between him, Shay, Pitch, and those _creatures_. It wouldn't hold for very long, it was already cracking, but seconds counted.

So did the ability to stay upright. Jack swayed, and stumbled when he turned to follow the Unseleighe King. He almost fell flat on his face, but that was more due to Pitch grabbing his ankle and hanging on than anything.

"Don't! Don't leave me here!" Pitch clawed at Jack's trouser leg. "Please, not with them!"

Jack growled, and looked at the Nightmare King. "You made your bed," he said. "Now _lie in it_."

He pulled free and ran after Shay.

Fortunately, the Unseleighe King doubled back and caught him. He pulled one of Jack's arms over his shoulders, checked that Jack had his staff, and then they ran as fast as they could.

He didn't know at what point, exactly, consciousness became a problem. His last memory was of falling, and landing against something warm and scaly.

And then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is just one long series of cliffhangers! Also- Jormungandr is a giant, Norse sea serpant that apparently circles the world and keeps the ocean from spilling out. Fafnir is a dragon that hoards gold. If you want to know more, I'm not writing it all up- the Norse are fond of their epics and someone wrote an opera about Fafnir.


	8. Returns a Free Man

"Ah. The sssleeperrr awakesss."

Jack cracked one eye open, just in time to see something large and scaly pull back out of what appeared to be a balcony door. "Was that Jör- um, George's _head_?"

Shay grinned, and set a tray down on the bedside table. "The phobophages are all gone, if you wanted to know. Eaten."

Which was more information than he'd really needed. Jack sat up. "Was I kidnapped again?"

"Technically. Here. Food from the human realm."

Vegetarian, too. Apparently from one of the many fast food chains that had spread all around the world. Food was food; Jack wasn't about to get picky just because the lettuce was several weeks past its prime, or because the salad dressing was bland and watery.

Shay waited while he ate, with every sign of patience. When Jack finished, he helped pile the plastic containers back onto the tray. Only then did he lean forward.

"We have read the book."

"Shouldn't Maeve be here for this?"

The Winter King tilted his head. "She will be but a moment."

Jack nodded, and found his staff. Some thoughtful person had put it in the bed next to him. Considering the size of the bed- his Colonial family would've been able to sleep everyone, including his aunt and uncle, in it with room to spare- it wasn't really surprising he hadn't noticed it right off. He laid it across his lap, and continued to look around.

The room looked like something out of a winter-themed, five-star hotel. Jack frowned a little.

"Expected something different?" Shay asked.

"Yes." Either that or he just preferred the Warren... Aster.

"How long have I been here?" Jack asked. "When we went after Pitch, you said it had been a week."

Shay's expression wasn't without sympathy. "Time passes strangely from Underhill to the land above. I will do my best to ensure you return to your time and place as close to when you left it as possible, but it could be months."

_Months_. Baby Tooth could find anyone, no doubt she'd look for him, but could she find him _here_? If she couldn't, then... Then the Guardians wouldn't know where he was. Only that Baby Tooth- and what would Aster think? They'd argued, sort of, and then Jack vanished. He'd never want to see Jack again.

The bedroom door opened. He looked up just long enough to confirm it was Maeve, and she had Jokul's book in one hand, before he looked down at his staff.

"Why so sorrowful?" Maeve walked across the room, until she stood next to her King. "You have your book of knowledge back. You will be returning shortly to your friends and beloved. What gives you such sad eyes?"

"I messed up," he admitted. "All this past year- I've been a coward, and I hurt Aster."

Maeve sat down on the bed beside him. "A coward? How so?"

Jack liked his lips, and looked up at the two Unseleighe. They didn't look judgmental, or angry, or disappointed, or amused, or anything like he would have expected. Maeve looked a little worried. Shay looked thoughtful.

But this was his _private_ life he'd be talking about. How could he...?

"Would you rather I left the room?" Shay asked. "I know you've spoken to Maeve before."

"I think it'd be just as awkward talking to- to either of you, regardless of who else is listening. I, uh, it's-"

"Personal?" Maeve suggested. "Intimate? The congress between you and your lover?"

Jack blushed frost, so thick it crawled down his neck and up into his hair. "Uh, well, technically he's not-"

"You love him, do you not? As he loves you?"

He nodded, and brushed one hand over his face. Well, yes. Of course he loved Aster. Looking back, it'd been all but instant, a surge of curiosity and want and regret, because there was no way such a fascinating looking creature could or would have anything to do with Jack Frost, madman of winter. Only then he had, and that one encounter had led to the second, fifty years later but no less intense, and from there he'd happily followed Aster into the land of eternal spring so long as it meant he could just stay close. So long as he could lower his mental barriers and bask in the emotional warmth that was E. Aster Bunnymund. Every new facet of Aster's personality and nature had been just one more treasure, to be admired and desired.

And Aster... It'd been the little things. The way he prowled in circles around Jack, or how he'd grin, pleased and cocksure, whenever they and the Guardians were all together. The way he'd wrap an arm around Jack's shoulder whenever he started getting overwhelmed by all the activity in the Workshop, or Tooth's Palace, or when he got frustrated trying to understand Sandy's pictures. Some not so little things too, like the possessive chinning, or how he'd loomed over Jack the entire Christmas party North had thrown. Not that Aster need have bothered, he was the only one that wanted to stand near Jack, never mind dance; but he'd been warning off would-be threats the entire night, all the same.

"Then," Maeve said, "he is your lover, whatever the status of your physical relationship. Lover and beloved, it is well they are twinned."

"You're getting kind of poetical, here, and I'm not sure what you're getting at."

Maeve looked over at Shay, and he took up the conversation. "You were hurt, Jack. For a century in Underhill, Mab held you captive. You killed her, true, _seven hundred and twenty-nine times_ , but you are an empath. Bad enough to kill, so intimately, but you had to feel what she wanted of you as well. You're still healing from that."

Shay leaned forward, his entire body intent on Jack, like a cat about to pounce. "As the body on occasion suffers scars that are not helpful, so too can the mind be wounded so. I will guess, and you need not tell me how right or wrong I am. You want to touch and be touched, but at the same you cannot stand the later. You want to trust and be trusted, but every fiber of your being protests what can be viewed as weakness or submission. You wish to let your beloved be as physical as can be, but your body acts upon reflex and he is shoved away."

Jack looked down at his staff. "Yes," he whispered.

"Cannot you see your habits- your _life-saving_ habits- are hard to break?" Shay leaned back a little. Just a little. He might have only taken a breath. "Have you told your Bunnymund of your history?"

He shook his head. "No. I- couldn't."

"That is your fault. You did not tell him of your wounds. And they _are_ wounds, Jack, as a broken bone or slashed flesh. And when he pressed upon your injuries, and you reacted as any injured creature would- you hurt him. Just as he hurt you, by reminding you of something that, quite _sanely_ , terrified you."

Jack shivered, and looked up at Shay. The Unseleighe's eyes caught him, the green seeming to glow and intensify. Not like Aster's eyes, which were like the Wind, sometimes harsh, sometimes gentle, always Jack's. No, Shay's eyes were like the ocean, and Jack was drowning.

Again.

Then Shay blinked, and Jack looked away so fast his neck popped.

"You love him," Shay said. "But you didn't trust him. Or was it that you were ashamed?"

Jack bit his lip.

"What do you have to be shamed of? Being caught? They came at you like cowards, from behind and with no warning! Being imprisoned? You were outnumbered. Being at the mercy of that _bitch_ and the creature she called King?"

"Yes," Jack said. "I should've-"

"What?" Shay asked. "What could you have done? Your powers are ice and snow. Laughter and Joy could not have driven the Snow Queen off, it would have only goaded her on. And ice, snow- those were _her_ powers too. You fought her with what you had, with all your strength, and Jack, you kept her from destroying you. You should be _proud_."

"But I hurt him!" Jack clenched his hands on the bedspread, and winced when it promptly iced over. "I- I _hurt_ him."

"Do you blame the wolf in a trap for biting?" Maeve asked.

"Well, no, but-"

"You were in a trap. For you, sex is a cage that is too small, with spikes on every bar." Her eyes were very sad. "It will take time for you to heal, for that cage to vanish."

"For you to trust, as well as love," Shay said. For some reason, he looked at Maeve when he said it.

She glared back.

"How?" Jack whispered. "How do I?"

Maeve grinned, and yeah, her eyes were glowing. "By finding a way to disable the trap, of course."

"Or, another way, by figuring out just what about sex makes you afraid, and figuring out how to work around it." Shay shrugged. "And always to remember to talk to your lover. He can't keep from hurting you if he doesn't know where you're wounded."

"I should've thought of that before," he said.

"Don't feel too bad about it," Shay said. He dodged Maeve's smack. "At least it's only taken you a few years to smarten up. It took _her_ several thousand."

Jack gaped at her. " _Maeve_?"

"I did grow up with Mab my other half and twin," she growled.

Yeah. Okay. Owch.

Maeve shook her head, and eyed Jack sidelong. "Now. If we are finished with such weighty matters?"

"I hope so."

"Then. Of the child you will give me. Have you made your decision on choices?"

Jack relaxed back into the pillows. "I'm not having sex with you. Or Shay." Definitely not with Shay, even if he hadn't had his... issues. If he was going to have a cesarean section, it'd be because he was carrying Aster's baby, not a near stranger's. "And I'm definitely not giving you my firstborn- Aster would _kill_ me."

"As the best kind of father would," Maeve said. "The final option, then?"

" _You_ read the book." He nodded at Jokul's book. "So, how simple or complicated will it be?"

Shay lifted the book, and flipped through the pages. He stopped at one, and held the book out to Jack. "Read it for yourself."

It took a moment to remember how to read the archaic German, but when he did... "The Law of Contagion, huh?"

"Can't we call it infection?" Shay asked. Maeve smacked him. "Oh, well, maybe not."

Jack closed the book. "Blood?"

"Barely more than three swallows," Shay assured him. "Now, would you feel more comfortable with a knife, or a needle?"

* * *

In the end, they went with a needle, if only because the resulting hole was so much smaller, and would close up that much faster, than a knife wound. If watching blood spurt out the open back of the needle, into a silver chalice, was somewhat weird and kind of disturbing, it was even more so to watch Shay and Maeve each drink from the chalice until the blood was gone. They even ran their fingers around the inside, to get the last few drips, and licked their fingers clean.

"How long until it takes effect?" Jack asked. "And do I have to stay here until you, uh, know if it's worked?"

"It will work," Shay said. "You might be wise in looking into contraceptive tea. But all _my_ knowledge of magic says between half an hour and a full day before we're fertile. Time enough to get you back in the land above."

"Would you like another cloak, Jack?" Maeve asked. She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a white, silk handkerchief.

"No, thank you. I've decided to stop wearing it," he said.

"As you like." She smiled, and the edges of her teeth were faintly red.

Shay escorted him back to the entrance of the Winter Court's fairgrounds, and sketched a quick sign on the tollbooth, as he'd done before. "Jack. Before you leave, you should know. What you did Easter night-"

"I had to do something," he snapped. "Aster-"

"Good job." Shay laughed at Jack's expression. "Oh, lad... Get on with you. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you."

Jack flipped the Unseleighe King off, and got another laugh. Then he stepped through the gate.

This time he was in- what was this, Las Vegas? _Really_? An alley just off the Strip, right outside... "A BDSM shop?" Jack asked, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Baby Tooth smacked into the back of his neck three seconds later.

It took Jack three minutes to calm down and maybe free his claws from the brick. And stop, you know, hissing like a terrified cat or something.

"Yeah, okay, yeah, warning next time? Baby Tooth! How long have I been gone?"

The little fairy glared at him. I've been looking for two weeks! Where have you _been_? Everyone's been so worried... And what did you _do_ on Easter? It _was_ you, wasn't it? It couldn't have been anyone else, it was _frost_ , so it _had_ to have been you!

"Two weeks?" Jack shook his head. "Argh. Well, that's better than months. Easter- I just... did things. Message things. Don't worry about it, it was mostly to make me feel like I was doing something to help."

Fine. But that doesn't answer where you _were_.

"Underhill."

The... Baby Tooth's eyes went big. Not the Snow Queen?

"Nope. The other one. Remember Maeve? She needed a favor, I needed a favor- I thought you could find people Underhill?"

Only if I'm there too. Or if I'm looking for someone outside. Baby Tooth shrugged, and frowned. Where'd that book come from?

"Oh. It's mine." Jack grinned, and adjusted his hold. "So, where is everyone? I suppose I should let them all know I'm okay at once."

Yes, you should. Baby Tooth flew a quick circle around his head. I like this, no cloak. You look so pretty! They're all at the Workshop. Bunny's a mess. You have to have to have to apologize for running off without telling him. He doesn't even know about the lights, he's been so distracted. Well...

"What about Bunny?" Jack headed out onto the street. After a moment, he realized he was getting a few double takes. What?

He called the Wind, just because- they weren't looking at _him_ , couldn't be, he wasn't visible because people didn't really believe in Jack Frost. Maybe in a few centuries his name would be more than a saying, but-

Yeah. Those people were watching him fly away. What?

"Ah, Baby Tooth?"

What is it?

"They could see me."

You'd be better talking to Mother. Baby Tooth sniffed. Now let's hurry!

Well, if she insisted... Jack caught her carefully, once he'd trapped his book between his side and his arm. Then he waved the Wind on for some speed. A _lot_ of speed.

The Wind shrieked with glee and threw him from current to current until they reached the North Pole. They hadn't broken any speed records, but they had shaved a few hours off the usual length of time. Not bad, really. Not bad at all.

The Wind dropped him down at the Workshop's front door. Jack rapped on the door with the crook of his staff, and smiled his best smile when Phil opened it. "Hello, Phil. It's me. Ice boy, without the cloak."

Phil groaned, but waved him in.

Jack headed through the hall and work spaces, twitching only faintly at all the activity. He followed Baby Tooth, who headed to a sitting room. Jack had to stop in the doorway and stare, because what was this?

Baby Tooth had said Aster was a mess. She had somehow forgotten to mention he was also drunk. Like, extremely drunk.

And talking to a lamp.

Jack couldn't gawk for long, though; Sandy and Tooth both accosted him and dragged him into the hall.

"Where have you been?" Tooth demanded. She bit her lip, and then started to lunge forward, as if to give him a hug. Then she pulled back. Then she leaned forward again. Before she could get too confused, Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a careful hug. Sandy snuggled up against his other side, then pulled back and wagged one finger in a chiding gesture.

"Not entirely my fault," he said. "Travel between Underhill and the world above gives the timeline a headache."

"Underhill?" Tooth asked. Sandy blinked at him.

"Long story. How long..." Jack gestured at the room, and the impressive collection of bottles.

"One good thing about being a spirit, we can't get liver failure." Tooth rolled her eyes.

Sandy showed a few images of- Easter, Jack supposed, and then a man drinking his weight in beer. "Since Easter? Two weeks?"

"Straight."

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. " _Why_?"

"Oh, Jack..." Tooth actually stopped hovering, and dropped down onto the floor. Her wings folded down against her back. "I'm so sorry. It just slipped out!" She covered her mouth with her hands.

"What did?"

"I... About the Snow Queen. Bunny didn't know?"

Jack looked away. "I never told him. I should have. I was just... afraid. Of what he'd think of me." One corner of his mouth twitched. "Still am."

"Between finding out about that, and what happened on the egg hunts, well... He was upset about the egg hunts, and so, so upset he'd hurt you, even unknowingly. Then he got incoherent and accused Nickolas of stealing all the vodka."

Jack blinked at Sandy. Sandy shrugged in return. Okay then.

"I think it's bedtime for a certain Pooka. I'll talk to him in the morning. When he's sobered up."

Tooth nodded. "North thinks he and Bunny are having a drinking contest. I'll have to break that up somehow."

Jack formed one of his happy snowflakes between his thumb and forefinger, and held it up. "Leave that to me."

One happy snowflake later, North no longer thought he was in the middle of a drinking contest. However, when he caught sight of Tooth, he shouted something in Russian- maybe Russian- and started dancing. Jack hurried over to Aster's side, before he went blind or got kicked by traditional Cossack dancing.

For a supremely drunk guy, North had amazing balance.

"Aster?"

The Pooka's ears didn't so much as twitch. He was completely sloshed, eyes red, swaying in his seat, clutching a bottle of North's really bad vodka in one hand. His accent was so thick Jack had to concentrate to make out each word, and he was slurring so badly it almost wasn't worth the effort.

Almost.

"An- an 's _my_ fault- bloody hell stop moving North, jes'- do a thing, a- Ja's human, yeah? Human's don't... they don't. Because..." Aster tried to point his finger at the lamp. He nearly fell off his seat. "No one wan'sta love th' Easter Bunny."

"Oh, Aster..." Jack touched Aster's shoulder, and somehow managed to juggle everything enough that he could pry the bottle from his hand. "I'm cutting you off. C'mon. Let's get you to bed."

Aster looked up, and for the life of him Jack couldn't figure out what he said.

"Definitely time for bed." How was this- Aster was bigger than he was, Jack had his staff and book and- it wasn't like he could just sling Aster over his shoulder in a fireman's carry!

"Phil!"

The yeti carried Aster up to the Pooka's usual guest room. Jack followed, frowning. To use a cliché, Aster was as drunk as a skunk and twice as incoherent. Two weeks of drinking? Amazing he was still _conscious_ , never mind talking.

Sort of talking. Kind of.

Phil set Aster down on the bed, and hurried out of the room. Probably before he could get drafted into helping with anything else. No matter. Jack leaned his staff up in one corner, left his book on the bedside table, and then hurried around getting everything set up. He got a large, decorative bowl and set it beside the bed in case Aster needed to throw up later, managed to find a glass and got the Pooka to drink some water, and then convinced Aster that yes, he really did want to get under the covers. It wasn't like there was a quilt or duvet or anything on the bed, just a few sheets. Between the sheets and his fur, Aster would stay warm enough.

"Jack?"

Well, that decided just where he was going to sleep. Jack brushed himself off, just in case, and then climbed into bed next to Aster. For once, he wasn't tempted to start groping. "Hey."

"Jack's gone," Aster told him, slurring a bit less. Or a lot less. "He's gone an' I ran him off."

"I'm not gone." Jack traced the side of Aster's face, careful of his claws. "I'm right here. I'm not going to leave."

"'S my fault. I shouldn'ta 'spected him ta... Stupid, really." Aster yawned, and shifted around until his head was pillowed on Jack's chest. "Love 'im, but 'm messed up things. Stupid wanker."

Jack opened his mouth to reply, and was interrupted by a snore. Then another one.

Oh, well. He could always talk to Aster in the morning. You know, after the Pooka's hangover had eased up some. It'd be better that way, really. He'd be more likely to remember what was said later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, Shay and Maeve kind of said what I'd have said in their place. Jack didn't tell Aster, so how the hell could Aster know about all those hidden wounds? Jack SHOULD have told him, because that way they could've worked it out. Since he didn't... they had issues. Thankfully they're going to talk now, the way they should've done. (On the other hand, considering how their relationship STARTED... The no talking thing should have surprised no one.)


	9. Reconciliation

Jack rubbed soothing circles over Aster's shoulders and upper back. Every so often he'd move his hands up, and scratch carefully behind the Pooka's long ears. Then back to the soothing circles. He'd been at it a while now, and it seemed to be working. Certainly Aster hadn't gone back to throwing up, though thankfully he'd managed to scramble to the washroom instead of emptying his stomach into the bowl.

Invulnerable liver or not, there was no escaping the hangover.

"Another glass of water?" Jack whispered, barely loud enough to hear himself. Aster still flinched, so apparently the overly sensitive hearing hadn't calmed down yet.

"Sure," Aster quavered. He sounded pretty rough, from the vomiting and drinking vodka, of all things. If he had to drown his sorrows in alcohol, did it _have_ to be North's rotgut?

Jack shook his head, and prepared another glass of water. He'd had one of the elves bring in a pitcher sometime around dawn, and filled it with snow. He'd used his happy flakes, actually; he didn't know if the cheer inducement would carry over once it'd melted, but there was no harm in trying. And he knew this water was absolutely fresh and clear of pollutants. Not even the springs in the Warren could say as much, though there was much, _much_ less than what could be found in surface water.

Besides, the springs in the Warren tasted like minerals.

Aster had slept- or stayed passed out, hard to tell the difference- for most of the day, until late afternoon. It had given the snow time to melt in the room, and it wasn't like Jack was going to have difficulty keeping the water cool.

He poured a glass half full, and helped Aster roll over and lift his head. If they hadn't been using a straw, the Pooka would have gotten soaked. As it was, despite his best efforts Jack occasionally tilted the glass a little too far and a few drops would fall out. Aster's neck was somewhat damp.

Aster sipped, carefully, and still drained the glass in under a minute. Jack set the glass down on the side table and promptly forgot about it. He smiled at Aster, who looked like he was suffering the worst migraine ever, and started rubbing circles on his temples. Apparently, it helped.

Someone else might have found it tedious, but Jack watched every whisker twitch with fascination. It wasn't often he got to study Aster like this. The Pooka was often moving, and even when he was holding still he was being distracting. That, and it seemed he wasn't at all fond of being stared at, not that Jack could blame him. A pity, though, because Jack enjoyed looking at him. He preferred to be touching, but looking was a very close second.

Like this, Jack could see the faint imperfections in the fur, where very old scars marred the skin. There were fresher- which meant, in the last two or three thousand years- on his body, but Aster was old and skilled and well able to keep his enemies from hitting his face.

Jack bared his teeth, though his fingers remained gentle. If he ever got the chance- He knew Pitch wasn't responsible for even half of the scars that marked his lover's body. When the day came, either in this life or the next, that Jack met the ones responsible... he would make sure they bled in payment for what they'd done.

"Jack." Aster turned his head, and sighed. "Y're here. Aren't you? Or 'm I dreaming again?"

Jack ran the tips of his claws over the short fur on one ear. "I'm here," he said, careful to keep his voice low. "I'm sorry I vanished."

Aster shook his head before Jack finished speaking. "No, no, 's my bloody fault, I-" He winced, when he tried opening his eyes, and whimpered.

"See, this is why you don't get drunk for two weeks straight," Jack said, and went back to rubbing Aster's temples. "The hangover's a bitch."

"D-dehydration."

"Yeah. Believe me, I've been to all the lectures. Well, until they got boring." So... five. Total. The first one had been during prohibition, and hadn't that been hilarious? Until the gunshots, at which point he'd dove down and torn the renegade Aatxe apart. Everyone had thought Joe Masseria had been assassinated by a rival gang. Not that anyone would have believed the truth; even the man's wife and children hadn't known he was a shape shifting spirit.

He hummed, and dragged his thoughts back to the here and now. "You should sleep," he said. Reluctantly, even. The longer it took for Aster to get back to something approaching normal, the longer it'd be before they talked, and the more knots Jack's stomach could tie itself in. He didn't want to talk to Aster about the Snow Queen. He didn't want to explain how being touched left him too panicked to think. Especially when, at the exact same time, he _needed_ to be touched.

"'F I sleep, you'll go 'way again," Aster mumbled.

"You're still drunk, aren't you?"

"No. Hurts too much."

Still drunk. Jack smiled a little, and helped Aster drink another half-glass of water.

The Pooka did fall asleep after a few more minutes of gentle petting. Jack watched over him the entire night, reluctant to so much as breathe loudly.

Aster woke up at a more reasonable hour, more or less recovered, it seemed. Mind, he refused to communicate in anything other than a grunt or a glare, at least until Jack bribed him with cool water, but he was awake and seemingly aware of his surroundings.

"Morning," Jack said.

Aster grunted, and took a long drink of water. Jack absolutely didn't stare at his throat.

"Morning," Aster rasped back. He sounded a little better than yesterday; though that was a bit like saying sandpaper was softer than sliding naked down a cliff.

Jack blinked, and frowned while he thought. Had that even made _sense_?

"What're you doing back?"

He blinked and focused on Aster again. "I finished being kidnapped?"

Maybe that was the wrong thing to have said. Aster looked sick, and horrified, and yeah he'd just dropped the glass, hadn't he? And now there were shards of, well, glass all over the floor.

"You should get on the bed," Jack said. "I'll call the elves or the yeti or something."

"You were kidnapped?" Suddenly those green eyes blazed with fury. " _Who_?"

"It was only technically." Jack patted the bed. "C'mon, Kangaroo. I'll tell you everything, just please get away from the sharp stuff. If you step on any of that you'll be limping for months."

Aster growled, but after a moment, stepped up onto the foot of the bed. He crouched there, and when Jack jumped off the bed to a safe patch of floor, turned to watch.

It didn't take the elves long to clean up the broken glass. They were scatterbrained most of the time, but what they did, they did very well. He rather suspected they were related to Brownies somehow. When the last of them hurried out the door, clutching glass shards like precious gems, he shut the door behind them.

He turned around, and froze, nose brushing the fur on Aster's chest. "Hello."

" _Jack_." Aster curled his body around Jack, arms and the line of his torso, neck and head coming forward and dipping down, and yet he didn't touch Jack. There was something like a quarter of an inch between them, everywhere. Jack could feel Aster's body heat. He just couldn't feel _Aster_.

It was easier than he'd thought, to lean forward and wrap his arms around Aster's waist. The Pooka's fur was soft under his cheek, and his muscles all tensed against him before relaxing.

Aster moved so slowly, touched him so gently, Jack had to swallow down a lump in his throat. This was like nothing-

No. He'd felt like this before. With his family, with Jokul, before being wounded. Now, with Aster.

Jack tightened his grip, and pushed. Aster backed up, not fighting, and only stopped when he hit the bed with the backs of his legs. Even then, he sat down, and Jack climbed up to straddle his lap.

Aster pressed his hands against Jack's hips, and bit his lower lip. "Jack," he said.

Jack growled, and grabbed two handfuls of fur and held on tight. "I'm going to talk. I need to- you need to listen. Because I can only say this once."

Aster nodded, and rubbed one hand up and down Jack's back. It felt good. It also felt very distracting, so Jack did his best to block it out. He was only partially successful.

He pressed his forehead against Aster's chest. "I was young," he said. "I remembered... I watched them die. My family. My sister, my- he was named for me, my brother..."

It hurt. Telling Aster about his sister dying of childbirth, his brother dying of poisonous plants, his parents wasting away at the loss of all their children. It felt like the wounds were fresh and new. Then he went on to talk about Jokul, who had taken Jack in, taught him, been a beloved older brother or uncle. About how Jokul, when he'd realized he was dying far sooner than expected, had written a book with everything he'd wanted to teach Jack, and then died.

"I went back to America. I thought- I thought I could keep the dangerous spirits from coming over, but it was harder than I'd thought, and I never seemed to have time to read Jokul's book. And then Pitch..."

Aster growled, low enough it was more felt than heard. "What'd he do?"

"Fought me. It was... Can't remember exactly when, eighteen-twelve, eighteen-thirteen? He made a deal, he'd leave in exchange for Jokul's book. A little later, I was caught by some of the Snow Queen's guards."

Aster shifted, just enough to wrap his arms around Jack's shoulders. It almost felt confining, but his grip was too loose to cause panic. Jack shivered, and tightened his grip on Aster's fur. He was hurting Aster, he knew it, he could feel the fur being pulled out a hair at a time by the roots, but he couldn't let go.

"I saw Pitch, at the court. He smiled at me before he left. Then _she_ had me. Her and her King."

Aster snarled, and Jack squeaked when he was crushed against that furry chest. Aster's arms were tight around him, too tight, and it was too much. He let go of Aster's fur and tried to find somewhere to press his hands against and shove, but he couldn't, and he was going to bite, he _knew_ he was going to bite-

At the last second he dropped his mental barriers instead.

Aster's rage and terror and grief, a surge of protective, possessive _want_ , crashed into and through him. Jack keened, and pressed his teeth against Aster's shoulder, not to draw blood but to claim, because his. Just, his.

After several minutes, Aster relaxed. Jack growled when Aster tried to pull back, and bit down a little harder.

It took a few minutes longer for Jack to calm down and get his mental barriers back up. He kissed the spot where he'd bitten, not quite an apology. He wasn't _sorry_ , after all. But there would be a bruise there, hidden away by the fur.

"Sorry," Aster said. "Didn't mean to- didn't hurt you, did I?"

Jack shook his head. "But I almost hurt you. If I hadn't- well. I felt what you felt, and so there was no throat ripping outage today."

"Throat-?"

"I killed her." Jack pulled back and stared into Aster's eyes. "The Snow Queen. So many _fucking_ times. Some of her blood- I couldn't hit, I couldn't kick, I couldn't get away, but she kept putting her throat _near my face_." He clenched his jaw, and flexed his claws against Aster's side. "I was human, once. Before her. But then I tore out her throat, and couldn't avoid swallowing a little blood. Then again. And again. And- _seven hundred and twenty-nine times_ I tore her throat out, drank her blood.

"I'm practically a half-breed now."

Aster took a deep breath, and pressed his forehead against Jack's. This close, it looked like he had three eyes. Jack never had been able to go cross-eyed.

"Damn good on you, Frostbite. Damn good on you."

Jack bit back a sob. "Maeve got me out, Maeve and Baby Tooth. It was- I was- and then I came out in the trenches of freaking world war one. Of all times and places."

Aster tightened his grip around Jack's shoulders again.

"Pitch was there, and I learnt- he's afraid of crazy people. They all are, the hunters. So I drove him off, I fought them all, and I learnt how to shut down my empathy before I went _really_ crazy." Jack pressed his hands against Aster's back, and rubbed them up against the grain of the fur. "And then you. Easter Sunday, '68, best year ever."

He grinned, and Aster's gaze flicked down to his teeth, it was expected and understood and maybe now the Pooka actually _saw_ Jack's fangs. The same way he actually _felt_ Jack's claws. The danger in them, the threat, that Jack had turned on him all too often.

"Because?" Aster asked, and tilted his head. He nuzzled Jack's cheek, then up to his temple. "Huh. You're not wearing your cloak."

"Because I met you," Jack admitted. "You- Aster. Before you, after the Snow Queen, I didn't want to touch anyone. I didn't want to be touched. She didn't- I always killed her before it got to that point, and her King never did anything without her telling him to," he said, before Aster could freak out again. "She- they didn't rape me, but... they came close. A lot of times, they came close."

Aster pressed his lips against Jack's. It was awkward. Facial structures being what they were, yeah, awkward, but worth it. Even if Jack nearly jumped out of his skin the first time Aster licked at Jack's lips. Felt good once he'd gotten used to it though.

Jack tried to remember if they'd ever kissed before. Pecks on the lips, sure, but- not like this. Not sliding their lips together, tongues and warmth and Jack yanked on Aster's ruff, and pressed closer. It was- and he _wanted_.

Aster's chest vibrated, a growl or a purr, too low for human hearing, and he slanted his head a little more and the awkward press of noses against cheekbones went away.

They pulled back, because even spirits needed to breathe. Jack kneaded his claws against Aster's shoulders, and realized he was rubbing an erection against the Pooka's stomach.

Huh. So, that actually did work and he could get physically aroused. Good to know.

"I was going to say something else," Jack said, all but gasping, "but I lost my thought."

Aster grinned, and pulled Jack down, and rolled over.

Oh, right that. Jack slammed his hands against Aster's chest, squirmed, and got them flipped over again so Aster was under him.

"I can't be pinned," he blurted.

"Right. Right, I- I should've thought. I'm sorry."

Hard to be upset when his pants were too tight and there was something very familiar poking him in the backside. Jack grinned, and considered his options. "I have an idea."

He pulled the twine off from around his calves, and all but giggled. "C'mon, we're down at the foot of the bed, stretch out properly or we'll end up falling off."

Aster raised his eyebrows, but wiggled around so his head was properly near the headboard. "What're you going to do with that string?" he asked, nostrils flaring with interest.

"You could tear apart handcuffs," Jack said, and tied one end of the twine around Aster's wrist. The other went up to the decorative middle post-type spike-thing jutting up from the headboard. Then he did the same with Aster's other wrist. "Twine won't even stop you. It's just a reminder."

Aster rumbled, low and deep in his chest, in answer, and flexed his hips. "I want to touch you," he said.

"Eventually. But I really, really want to touch you right now, and try something, and it's just easier all around if I do all the touching." Jack shrugged, and pulled off his tunic. Aster made a sound, and Jack looked down. "Oh. Right. Scars." He looked up. "But I healed. I survived. They're just scars."

Aster looked away from the deep gouges down Jack's chest, and nodded. "... You've _still_ got paint on you?"

A splotch of blue here, green there, faded red on one shoulder... And, of course, his hair. "Yes," he admitted. "I don't... I drowned. And when I'm in water, I panic, and then I'm in ice."

Aster half-closed his eyes. "Maybe I could help you with that."

"Maybe you could." Jack leaned forward, and braced his hands on Aster's shoulders. "First, though, I want to have fun."

Then he stood up and pulled off his pants.

Aster's eyes narrowed, and he grinned. "You know, if I'd twigged on to your bondage fetish earlier, we could've been doing this a lot more."

"More like a thing for control." Jack straddled Aster's hips again, and ran his fingers along that furred and muscled ribcage. "And I forgot to get lube."

"Bath oil," Aster said. "Just not the stuff that stinks like a candy cane."

Jack grinned, and hurried, a little awkwardly, into the attached washroom.

He took the bottle that smelt like pine and cinnamon, and did giggle when he got himself and Aster prepped. Aster twitched a little when Jack slid the first finger in, but then he relaxed and even chuckled a little.

"Only for you, mate. Now _hurry up_."

Well, since he insisted...

Jack hissed, and Aster groaned, and then- okay. Yes. Okay. They were having sex. This was a thing they were doing, and what was he supposed to do now?

"Move!" Aster twitched his hips, and bit his lower lip.

Jack said- something, meaningless babble- and did. Pleasure was- and he wasn't even feeling Aster for once- he snarled and that was German, he was cussing in German, and _God yes_.

Aster was quieter but no less vocal. He groaned and hissed and tightened his legs around Jack's hips. Urging him on, and it worked, and after a minute Jack remembered to reach down and wrap one hand around Aster's cock. He didn't even pump it, really, just rubbed his thumb up and down the underside, and leaned forward so his stomach brushed against the head with every movement of his hips.

Aster tilted his head back, and that was just too much of an invitation, really.

Jack stretched out along Aster's body, and closed his teeth over the line of Aster's neck. Thin fur and Aster's pulse tickled against his tongue.

Aster tensed, and hissed when he came. Jack snarled against Aster's throat seconds later, and then collapsed.

"Huh," he said, and blinked. "Orgasm. Have to again. Later." He wiggled a bit, but Aster didn't unwrap his legs. "Staying like this?"

"Mm." Aster grinned, and snapped the twine with barely a twitch. "Sleep, Snowflake."

That sounded like a very good idea. Jack tucked his head down on Aster's shoulder, and barely noticed when someone pulled the covers up over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So- smut happened. Finally. Also, they talked. Finally. And Jack had his first orgasm, so three hundred years and a bit, so absolutely finally there.
> 
> _But wait! What about Aster's globe?!_


	10. Bath Time

Aster hadn't figured he'd get off on playing the submissive, letting someone else dictate what did and did not happen during sex. Mind, he'd also figured, once upon a time, that he'd end up with another Pooka. That he'd never find a human, spirit or mortal, attractive. That anyone _he_ found attractive wouldn't be interested back. Oh, and he'd also figured that any relationship he ended up in would involve courtship beforehand.

Jack tilted his hips, and Aster keened in reaction. He'd been wrong. So, so wrong. And it was good.

He didn't last long. Jack was focused, knew all of the Pooka's erogenous spots, and was chewing on Aster's neck. That was new, the teeth, and very welcome. Like claws against his prick and-

Aster dug his claws into the mattress and arched his back when he came. No screaming. Later, in the Warren. Just not now. He didn't need North making any comments, thank you.

Jack followed him into orgasm not two seconds later. He howled, but it was muffled against Aster's neck. His claws dug into the Pooka's ribs, and for a second he pressed down into Aster like it was a fight, like that bite was going to turn serious.

Then it passed, and Jack relaxed and actually licked at every spot he'd chewed on. Just like another Pooka would have. Aster shivered, and moved slow enough for Jack to adjust, wrapped his arms around his Frostbite's shoulders. Gentle hug, he reminded himself.

They were both still shaking. It'd been a good way to wake up.

Jack was all but purring, gone boneless on top of Aster, and mouthing gently at his neck. Why hadn't they tried this before? He didn't think either of them had any complaints. Even if Aster still wasn't allowed to touch.

"You need a bath," Jack murmured, and tilted his head so he could grin up at Aster.

"So do you." His hair was _pink_. It was endearing instead of hilarious. Yeah, he was _completely_ head over heels.

Jack tensed, claws digging into Aster's ribs, and then relaxed. "Together."

"I'll wash your back if you brush mine."

"Brush?"

"You'll see."

He didn't like baths, or showers, because brushing out his fur was a pain in the tail. He made sure to take care of the trouble spots as part of his daily routine, but all the stretching and martial arts in the world wouldn't make it any easier to brush himself between his shoulder blades. Usually he left it until he got burrs in hard to reach places, or mud puddles attacked, or now, when he'd had some very good sex.

Very good sex was also messy, and fur matted. Better to have a bath, even if it did mean brushing before and after.

"So how does this work?" Jack asked, following him into the washroom.

Aster coughed, and found a good hairbrush and comb on the vanity. "If I don't brush myself off before getting in the water, there'll be so much fur floating around you won't be able to see past it. It just takes forever."

"That sounds like fun," Jack said, and stepped up behind him. Aster stared into the mirror, into Jack's eyes reflected in the mirror, and Jack's wicked smile right before Jack wrapped his arms around his waist and-

"We really should have a bath," he said, but it was so tempting to bend over and press his rear into Jack's front. "Not sex."

"Sex later?" Jack pressed his grin against Aster's shoulder. "It's fun."

"Yeah." Aster held up the comb. "We should, uh, sooner we get this done."

Jack laughed, and took the comb.

Aster had plenty of fond memories of his parents, or his older siblings, helping him groom. He'd done the same for them, for his younger siblings. It'd been relaxing, comforting, made him feel safe and warm and loved.

Jack was careful, and picked at tangles with his claws first before running the comb through. He ran the comb along the line of Aster's back slowly, smoothing the fur down with his hand. It wasn't calming. Opposite of calm, in fact. Aster arched his back, and palmed his own erection.

"Really?" Jack asked, and nuzzled the back of Aster's neck.

"You're- distracting."

"Good." Jack moved lower with the comb. "I was right, this _is_ fun!"

When Jack was done brushing his back, he made sure to finish Aster off. So that was alright.

Aster brushed himself, his arms, legs, chest and stomach, anyways. He also watched Jack prep the tub. It didn't escape his notice that more of that pine scented bath oil was set out and available. It made him grin. Not that he hadn't expected otherwise, considering how interested Jack was in things, but they were going to have a bath to get clean. Not so they'd need another bath when finished.

The water steamed faintly. "You can handle it hot?"

Jack shrugged, and actually looked sheepish. "Well, it was hot when I lived with Jokul. Hot-ish. We had to heat the water in cans and there was a hip bath, but. When you're always feeling cold, hot water is... good."

"Or a partner with too much body heat?" Aster suggested. He'd always wondered, in the back of his mind, how Jack stood cuddling up at night. Of course, he'd also wondered how Jack could have hands that cold yet still have circulation in his fingers.

"That's just as good." Jack eyed the water level, and turned off the tap. "You get in first."

"Just a moment." He set the comb back on the vanity, and eyed the puffs and loose balls of fur. Eh, he could clean it up later. Or leave it for the elves. "Your hair."

Jack touched one of his braids. "What about it?"

"Can't wash it properly if it's done up like that. We can braid it again after."

Jack chewed his lower lip, before working on the end of one of the skinny ones. "Alright."

There was something about those braids, about keeping them in, but, well, the shampoo wouldn't do a good job of things if the braids weren't out. And Aster could always put them back in after.

Although that would be a damn shame, he thought a minute later. Jack's hair was long, down to his waist, and the pink was in varying shades of intensity thanks to the braids' weave. Aster ran his fingers through it a few times, and ground his teeth together. He'd expected Jack's hair to be brittle, but it wasn't, and it wasn't anything like fur either. Which, yes, he'd known that, but it was another thing entirely to bury his hands in it and feel the individual strands slide over the pads of his fingers.

"That's it," Aster said. "You're never getting your hair cut, and I think you can do without the braids."

Jack laughed at him. "My hair tangles way too easily. It has to be up or I'll have to cut it off."

"A- what're they called, pony tails? Why pony tails?" Aster pressed his forehead against Jack's. "No braids."

"Don't know why they're pony tails and not something else, but we'll talk. Get in the tub."

Aster stepped into the water, hissed once at the heat, and settled down. "Come on in, the water's warm."

"Let's hope it stays that way." Jack sat down on the edge of the tub, and eased one foot in. Then the other. He looked paler than usual, so Aster held out one hand.

For such a scrawny little guy, Jack had quite the grip on him. No bones were broken, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

Once he was in the water, he plastered himself against Aster's side and clung. Aster just held still and rubbed his chin against the top of Jack's head. He'd have to do it again after the bath, because it'd take a few doses of hair washing to get the pink out.

"Okay," Jack said, after a minute. "So. Bathing. Do you need soap or... anything?"

"Only in a few spots," Aster said, and leered. Jack splashed him.

Though to be honest, he didn't really need soap, or shampoo. The joys of never sweating. Sure, the pads of his hands and feet got damp, but Pooka cooled off by panting, not oozing a saline solution from every pore.

Jack grabbed a bar of soap, instead of the liquid stuff right next to it, and held it up. "So. I brushed your back. Going to wash mine?"

Aster ground his teeth, took the bar, and promptly dropped it.

They both looked down. "There's the liquid soap," Jack suggested.

"You have to get your hair wet anyways," Aster pointed out. Jack looked panicked. "Never mind, I'll get it, I've got longer arms and all."

Jack huffed, and leaned against the side of the tub. Thankfully, it was a big one, built large enough it was, technically, one of those hot tub things, with the jets. Also thankfully, the jets weren't on, because otherwise Aster would've never found the soap under the water. At least he was able to keep his head mostly up out of it, the last thing he needed or wanted was water in his ears.

He held up the soap, and grinned at Jack. "Let me see your back."

"Being smarmy isn't going to help me relax."

"I'm not being smarmy." Was he? "Turn around before I drop the soap again."

For some reason that made Jack laugh, but he turned around. He leaned against the side of the tub; chin pillowed on his folded arms, and looked back over his shoulder when Aster moved up behind him.

Well. There were a lot of scars.

Aster lathered the soap up in his hands, and started at the back of Jack's neck. Somewhere between his shoulders, Jack started a low voiced explanation of what had caused each scar, and when. Most of them were pretty pale- "I started healing faster when the Snow Queen had me, probably the blood thing." -but there were so _many_. Aster scooped water up in one hand and poured it out over Jack's shoulder, then bent down a little to press a kiss to one closed over puncture. Icicle, thanks to an angry Queen's Consort.

Jack got quieter the lower Aster ran his hands, and the lower Aster ran his hands the more Jack kept shifting his hips.

"Enjoying yourself?" Aster rubbed one hand over Jack's side, then around to his front and down. He wrapped his fingers around Jack's arousal, and grinned. _Finally_.

"Ah... You're being distracting." Jack pressed into his hand.

"Thought that was the idea?" Aster ran the bar of soap over Jack's other side, and laughed. "Paint's coming off."

"Y-yeah. _Vögeln_."

"German?" It'd been a while since he'd spoken German- back in the dark ages, if he remembered right- and Jack's accent was somewhere between modern and not-as-archaic-as-Aster's.

"Parents were. They spoke it. _Ja_ , halten tun."

Aster translated that, and ground his teeth together. "Absolutely, Frostbite."

He urged Jack to lean back against him, instead of forward against the side of the tub, and set to work reducing his mate into a boneless puddle of mush. Some corner of his mind wanted him to run around the room in a giddy whirl, because after last night, this morning, Jack _absolutely_ was his _mate_ , but the room was too small and he was a bit busy anyways.

Jack babbled in German, and after the third _Vögeln_ and fifth _Heilige Scheiße, ja, dass!_ he decided there wasn't much point in listening too closely. Jack was enjoying himself, that was all Aster really needed to know.

And, bonus, while Jack babbled and pressed against Aster's hand, Aster was able to soap up Jack's chest and stomach.

Jack came just as Aster set the soap aside. He sagged against Aster, and let his head fall back to rest on the Pooka's shoulder.

"Your hair still needs washed," Aster murmured, right into Jack's ear.

The winter spirit cracked one eye open. "You do that. Make sure I don't drown."

It took two runs with the shampoo to get the pink out. Jack didn't quite fall asleep, but he didn't turn anything to ice and his eyes stayed closed the entire time. A good sign, Aster decided, and lifted his mate (no, brain, no running around the bathroom- too small) in his arms, bridal style.

"Wha?"

"You don't look able to stand, mate." Jack looked quite lovely and blissful, and damp. Lovely and _damp_ , too. His wet hair draped over one shoulder to spread out across his chest and stomach and maybe licking his lips was a bit obvious.

"I want food before another round." Jack, thankfully, grinned. "And maybe our nest."

As compared to North's guest bed, yeah. Made sense. No need to keep quiet back in their Burrow.

Heh. _Their_ Burrow.

"You should probably be dressed for that." Which would be a shame. "I'll help you with your hair."

"Do you just like playing with my hair or something?"

"Not like I've got any of my own. Fur, but not hair."

Jack wrapped his arms around Aster's neck. "Good point."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was supposed to be a plot and the Globe thing and then there was a bath and they enjoyed themselves.
> 
> -wanders off, confused-


	11. Homecoming

Jack picked his pants up off the floor, and raised his eyebrows at Aster. The Pooka looked away, clearly denying he'd ever made a sound, let alone one as wistful and disapproving as _that_. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Besides, we have to leave the room _some_ time."

Aster twitched an ear. "Guess we'll have more privacy in the Warren anyways."

"Very true." Jack wouldn't have to wear clothing if he didn't want to. He'd have to think on that. On the one hand, he'd _finally_ discovered just why everyone seemed obsessed with sex. It was fun, and orgasms were _amazing_. He hadn't felt this good in... Well, centuries! On the other hand, though, he wasn't sure he was comfortable leaving his scars on display.

He glanced up at Aster. He'd have to try it and see. Who knew, he might come to enjoy it.

And even if he didn't, he suspected his beloved would understand.

Jack blinked, and forced the soppy smile off his face. He might be in love, he might feel very good at the moment, but he wasn't one for infatuated, gooey expressions.

"Where did I throw my shirt?"

Locating his clothes took more time than actually pulling it all back on did. That left only his hair; he considered leaving it down, but knew the moment he stepped outside the room, that would be when the elf ran by throwing sticky, half melted candy in the air. Or paint. Or _glitter_. He had the leather ties, the one from the main braid would be good enough... Or...

"Aster, do you want to braid my hair?"

"Yes." Aster moved fast enough to make the word redundant. Jack laughed to himself, and sat down on the bed, and let the Pooka work.

The end result was a little lopsided, but Aster promised to practice. No doubt on Jack's head. Oh, well, it'd been nice enough feeling the blunt claws brush against his scalp. Soothing, really. Nothing he'd mind happening again.

Odd how a bout of sex calmed him right down.

"I think I've discovered an unconventional therapy technique," Jack said, and took hold of the door knob.

"Oh?" Aster raised one eyebrow.

"I think you'll enjoy it." Jack grinned, wicked and bright. "It involves lots and _lots_ of sex."

Aster spluttered, and laughed. "You'd be right there, mate. I will enjoy that."

Jack headed out into the hallway, and managed to find a yeti for directions. North, Tooth, and Sandy had gathered by the globe, no doubt discussing what to do about Aster's believers. Or non-believers, as it might have been for the moment.

He'd done what he could. Maybe, hopefully, a few children had seen his message on the windows. And believed again.

Aster reached forward, and caught Jack's hand. "Mate?"

"Just... thinking. About Easter."

"You never did tell me where you'd gone. Kidnapped, you said?" Aster tightened his grip on Jack's hand.

"The Winter Lady wanted to know if she could look through Jokul's book." Jack held up the book in question. "Only Pitch still had it, so... Epic rescue. Travel between our realm and Underhill being what it is, I'm apparently lucky it was only two weeks, not two decades or something." Although, his time in the Snow Queen's realm had been more or less the same length of time as outside it. Maybe a few years more, or a few years less, than the century it had been outside.

He wasn't going to think about it. It didn't matter how long she'd had him, in the end, she'd _lost_.

And he... Jack eyed Aster, and squeezed the Pooka's hand. He'd _won_.

* * *

The three Guardians were gathered at the base of North's globe. Jack frowned at it; there was something a little odd about the lights. They were supposed to be white, but not all of them were. Some were, in fact, a pale, bright blue. Odd.

"Ah, Jack, Bunny." North grinned at them, and leered a little. "Hangover all better?"

Aster grunted. "Yeah, no thanks to you, bloody Russkie."

" _You_ started drinking challenge."

" _What_ challenge? You just kept putting bottles in front of me, there wasn't any ruddy challenge!"

Jack grinned at Tooth. "We're going back to the Warren."

"Oh." Her eyes widened. "Um, before you do- Bunny? Your globe."

Aster cut himself off mid-sentence, and looked over at Tooth. "It's alright, sheila. I- we- we'll be by in a few days, how's that? To talk about it, come up with a plan."

Jack squeezed Aster's hand again. If no one else, Jamie and his friends believed.

"Yes, but, Bunny, about your globe, I visited the Warren-"

Aster huffed at her. "Why? It's fine. It _is_ fine, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then we'll be by in a few days." Aster's smile was tired, but genuine. "She'll be apples sooner or later, Tooth. We've got all year to get the ankle biters believing again."

"But- but-" Tooth turned to look at Sandy and North.

Sandy made a face, and started flashing images at Aster. Jack watched closely, but couldn't make out one picture in ten.

"Bunny," North said.

Aster shook his head. "In a few days. Five? We'll see ourselves out. C'mon, mate. Let's go home."

Jack let go of Aster's hand long enough to wrap one arm around the Pooka's waist. "Lead the way. See you all in a few days."

Jack looked back once, at the globe and the Guardians. The globe still looked odd, with the strange, ice-blue lights mixed with the white. The three Guardians were talking amongst themselves again, clearly frustrated. Well, whatever they'd wanted to say could wait.

"The children will believe in you again," he said.

Aster shook his head. "We'll see."

Jack squeezed Aster's waist. "No, they _will_."

"You think?"

"I _hope_."

Aster rubbed his chin against the top of Jack's head. "Thanks, mate. Let's go home." He tapped his foot against the dirt floor of the reindeer stable, and the tunnel opened up.

"After you," Jack said, and gestured at the tunnel.

Aster laughed. "You just want to stare at my tail."

"It's a nice view."

"Get in there."

Jack laughed, and ducked into the tunnel. It had been dug- or formed, who knew- for Aster to run along on four legs. Someone standing on two legs, well, Jack's head brushed the ceiling. A pity he didn't have his cloak at the moment, the hood would have been very welcome.

Aster walked up beside him, on all fours. Jack blinked, once, and huffed. "I'm taller than you are."

"For now." The Pooka ground his teeth in a purr. "If you want, I could carry you."

Jack grinned, and clambered onto Aster's back. "How come we haven't done this before?"

"I've no idea, but at least we can fix that now."

Aster was warm, and very, very fast. Jack, after the first lunge, grabbed handfuls of Aster's ruff. The Pooka didn't so much as twitch; he might not even have noticed. The Wind whistled down in the tunnels, a bare whisper compared to her strength above ground. Jack couldn't tell if she was amused or frustrated that he was being carried by Aster instead of her. Well, this was a novelty. One they'd hopefully repeat.

Aster's run was smoother than the Wind's carrying. And, as a bonus, Jack had to lie flat against the Pooka's back, and could feel every muscle twitch.

He growled under his breath, and tightened his grip on Aster's fur. They were almost at the Warren now. He had _plans_ for their arrival.

Now, what could he use for lube?

Jack huffed. There wasn't anything easily on hand. Fine, his plans would have to wait a bit. Until they were in the nest, anyways. Then... Heh. _Plans_.

Aster slowed down, and the tunnel opened out onto the Warren. Jack slid down to the ground so Aster could stand up, and the Wind chose that moment to whirl around them, whipping up fallen leaves and dust. Aster covered his eyes with one arm, and Jack pressed his face against the Pooka's ribs.

The Wind settled, and drifted off to the open sky over Australia. Jack huffed at her, and pulled away.

"Hey," he said, and grinned up at his beloved.

"Hey." Aster grinned back. What did he see, when he looked at Jack? Something he liked, clearly, but- no, Jack didn't want to look too closely at that. It was enough to know he _did_ like what he saw.

"Got any plans?" Jack stroked one hand down a sleek flank, the fur tickling his fingertips. "Or can I interest you in an idea I've got?"

"Bet you could, but I thought I'd take a quick look at the globe before we... talk about ideas." Aster wrapped his arms around Jack's shoulders. "Besides, I want to know more about you taking that book back from Pitch."

Of course he did. "Fine. If you insist."

"You can distract me from questions _after_ I've asked them all."

"I don't do that. On purpose. Much."

Aster raised his eyebrows, then pressed a kiss to Jack's lips. "Right. Sure you don't. Sooner I look at the globe, sooner we talk, and sooner we talk, sooner you can tie me up to your heart's content."

"What are you waiting for, then?" Jack ducked out from under Aster's arms. "Let's go!"

His beloved's laughter was the best sound _ever_.

* * *

Aster ambled in Jack's wake. He wasn't at all eager to look at his globe, really. All the dark spaces, the empty places where there should've been kids believing in him. Sure, he knew there were six or seven kids in Burgess that believed, and that would keep him from shrinking down to what was, basically, an infantile form, but he'd be feeling the weakness of it until he got more kids hunting eggs again.

Strange he wasn't feeling weak or tired at the moment, but he could only figure that was Jack's fault. The winter spirit was quite good for making a bloke feel _up_ for anything.

"Could you possibly go any slower?" Jack asked. He hopped, skipped a step, and then jumped, and landed right at Aster's side. Right where he belonged.

"Yup. You want me to?"

"No. Like you said, sooner we get this done, sooner you'll let me tie you up." Jack's smile did funny things to Aster's legs. Like make his knees weak and his thighs twitch to part.

Down. Bad libido. Business first, _then_ play.

"Well, maybe you should stop asking, then." Aster grinned, and tugged on Jack's braid. "C'mon, Frostbite. Didn't you say you were hungry?"

"I said we should eat. Though, I suppose I am, a little." He frowned. "It's been a few days. I'll bring the food to the globe room?"

"Something we can eat quick, or can set aside if we get distracted."

"Oh, I can do that. And I promise, we'll get distracted." Jack blatantly looked Aster over, eyes lingering on the Pooka's hips and groin. "I won't be long."

He'd probably arrive at the globe room right when Aster was ready to distract himself. So it'd work out. Aster waited a minute, purely to watch Jack, and then continued on his way.

It was tempting to stop and watch his mate in the kitchen, but he forced himself to keep on until he reached the globe.

He stopped in the doorway. Stared. Blinked a bit.

" _Jack_!"

The winter spirit came running. "What? What is- oh. Wow. I guess. Uh. I guess they _did_ see it."

"See...?"

Jack shook his head, and gestured helplessly at the globe.

The globe, which was covered in so many lights it was hard to look straight on at the thing. Not just one color, either- gold and silver, white-blue and equally pale green, violet and orange and pure, bright white.

"You... what- Jack, what did you _do_?"

It hadn't been him. It hadn't been the others. It _had_ to have been Jack.

But _when_?

And by El-Ahrairah's whiskers, _what_?

"I..." Jack blinked up at him. "A-after the argument, I... Well, I watched some of the egg hunts. Only no one really... hunted."

Aster did his best to ignore his stomach twisting itself into knots. The argument. The stupid... He wasn't going to dwell on it. He'd apologize, once Jack was done explaining. Maybe grovel a bit for all the pushing he'd done, before his mate was ready to be pushed.

"I, well, it didn't seem right. And I stopped by in the Warren, and saw the globe... So I went back out and started... frosting over windows."

"What?" Aster frowned. What did frosting over windows have to do with anything?

"And drawing in the frost," Jack admitted. "A- you know, like an Easter Egg? With 'Happy Easter' written beneath it. The Wind didn't know what windows were kid's windows, or even bedroom windows, so I think I got every single window that let onto a room with a bed, even hotels." Jack paused. And shuddered. "People should close their curtains."

"Saw a few things you didn't want to?" Once upon a time that'd been in fields and forests, with common folk that wanted a little privacy from the family. Aster had stumbled over a few of _those_ couples in his time.

"A bit. Mind you, a few people doing things they really shouldn't got a surprise, and I think a few police officers got called to a domestic disturbance when _someone_ knocked over a phone and dialed nine-one-one..." Jack contrived to look innocent.

"Most phones these days are cell phones."

"...Whoops?"

Aster pressed his forehead to Jack's. "Mate, you... those lights are _everywhere_."

"I can stay up for days without getting tired. Round the globe once? Meh."

"You did that for me?"

Jack tilted his head and kissed Aster. It quickly devolved- or evolved- into tongues and teeth and claws scraping carefully against skin and through fur. They pulled back only because they both needed to breathe, though it didn't escape Aster's notice that Jack was panting less.

"I do love you, you know," he said. "What do all the different lights mean?"

"Adults," Aster said, before his mind caught up with his ears. "Wah- love? You... really?" Already?

Jack huffed at him. "Said so, didn't I?"

"Yeah." It'd only been what, a year they'd been together? "Back at you, mate."

"Are we done talking now?" Jack asked.

No, they weren't, because Aster still had questions- but they could wait. "Yeah."

"Good." His mate grinned, and started to back away towards the kitchen. "I've got the food. And I found some rope."

Aster couldn't follow him fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One final chapter, ladies and gents, and then yeah, Vindicated will be finished. There's a few things I want to tie up into a pretty bow- at the moment there's a few strands still waving about, too. Got to get those knotted off...


	12. Epilogue

"So what do the various colors on the globe mean?"

Aster cracked one eye open. Really? Jack wanted to talk about this _now_? Three orgasms in, he should've been _unconscious_ , like Aster about was!

"The white-gold are the sprogs," he whispered. "The other colors- not every adult is going to believe for long, even with what you did. Some will fade in a few weeks. Others will take months, years, but they'll go too. Then it'll be the children and a few that wouldn't stop believing whatever you did."

"Nutbars that believe in UFO abductions?"

"Them, too." Aster nuzzled Jack's shoulder. "And I think the blue-white ones are your believers."

"What?" Jack moved; Aster just kept from whining at it. "Mine? I don't..."

"You did the frost. Now lie down and catch some shut eye. The others will be nagging us about this soon, I just know it."

* * *

Several days later, the other Guardians instituted a new policy of sending elves through to the Warren first, as a warning. That way Jack had enough time to find and put on his pants before the others had to see... anything. Or anyone doing anything.

It had been more information than they'd really wanted.

* * *

"Is that pennyroyal tea?"

"It is."

"That stuff tastes wretched, mate, why are you drinking it?"

Jack took a sip, and made a face. "Better to get used to it now, before I need it. One of these days I'll be alright with bottoming, and I don't think we're quite ready for children yet."

"...Jack." Aster sat down. "You're a bloke."

"One of the few winter spirits capable of getting pregnant. Or getting other people pregnant." Jack finished off the cup, gagged a little, and grabbed a glass of water he'd readied beforehand. "So yeah, you can get me pregnant, I have a womb, unless Pooka have a weird number of chromosomes or something."

"Same number. Pass me some tea."

"Why?"

"Pooka are internal hermaphrodites and external shape shifters. Give."

Jack gave.

* * *

Thanksgiving was held at the North Pole. Nicholas was tempted to kidnap Jack just to keep him cooking in the kitchen; the most _wonderful_ smells had been wafting out all day. Of course, that would have meant a cranky Pooka living full time in the Workshop as well, which would have only caused problems with the yeti and the elves and Nicholas loved his friend like a brother, he did, and he was happy Bunny had found a love. But no. No and no and no. He liked pretending all Bunny and Jack did together was hug and maybe exchange chaste kisses.

Tooth laughed at him and said he was silly. Perhaps he was. But this way he had no desire to claw his own brain out to throw it in a laundry tub either.

Nicholas reclined in his seat by the fire, a tumbler of good vodka in one hand, his other arm wrapped around Tooth's waist. She perched on the arm of his chair, wings fluttering every so often so she could keep her balance.

Bunny sat in the other chair, a bit further from the fire. He nursed a glass of cider. Poor Bunny, who could not drink without quickly becoming the fool.

Sandy floated halfway between the two chairs, a cup and pitcher of eggnog held up by his sand. He stared into the fire, either sleepy or meditative; it was sometimes hard to tell. The Sandman was old; not even Bunny knew exactly how so. Nicholas had noticed, as his years increased, it got harder and harder to stay current with the 'fads'. Like the games the children were currently obsessed with, it was all electronics and computers these days! What was wrong with a good, wooden train, or a carefully painted, porcelain doll? Bah. He was Santa, and would see the toys to the children, but he sometimes needed help knowing just _what_ the children were asking for.

Sandy at many times Nicholas' age must have the same problems, if not more so. Sleeping, or losing focus on a conversation, must not seem like much to him. What did he have but time?

And who knew how a star, or a former star, thought? Bah, Nicholas was over thinking things, again. Time to turn his mind to something more immediate. Like dinner.

"Is the food not done yet?" he asked.

"Patience," Tooth chided him. "It'll be done when it's done."

"It's done now." Jack walked in, and grinned at the room. "The yeti are just setting the table."

Nicholas watched, resigned, as the winter sprite immediately crossed to sit down on Bunny's lap, and exchange not-so-chaste kisses. He drained his vodka and looked at the more pleasing sight of his amused wife.

"You're so cute," she whispered.

"Brother should not be sticking tongue down friend's throat," Nicholas told her. "Bah. Food!"

The food was good, and plentiful. Jack had cooked for an army. There wasn't a tofu-turkey, the way Nicholas had half expected, because- or so Bunny explained, loudly and at length- tofu did not do good things to a Pooka's stomach. Nicholas tuned him out after several minutes. There _were_ more vegetables than normally graced his table, some plain, others done in fancier dishes, but it was all tasty so he had no complaints.

"Before we eat pie," Nicholas said, once the decimated remains of dinner were cleared away. "In spirit of gathering, what are we thankful for today?"

Sandy grinned and showed an image of all of them, together around the table. Family, Nicholas thought.

Bunny took a sip of his drink. "Jack's quite good at sex."

Nicholas nearly choked on nothing.

There was no mistaking the grin on Jack's face; there was a reason even now he was top of naughty list. "Handcuffs."

"You know," Tooth said, and grinned at Nicholas. "You're pretty good at sex yourself..."

He groaned, and covered his face with his hands. "For you all. I have no idea why, but yes, for you all."

* * *

Jack hissed at an elf, and went back to glowering at nothing. Why did he have to be here? Why did Aster? Christmas was North's holiday, not theirs; Jack wasn't even going out to help ensure a white Christmas, there was no need. Some of the other winter spirits were feeling a bit active, no idea why, and even Texas was going to have some of the white stuff by morning.

Tooth and Sandy were off in a corner, chatting. Presumably. Tooth might have been talking while Sandy listened and thought deep thoughts, who could be sure? Aster was napping on the couch, having been kept awake and busy all last night and through the day.

Jack occasionally took advantage of his energy levels during American winters. _He_ didn't need to sleep for days, why should Aster?

He still didn't know why they were all there. To celebrate after a successful Christmas run? Exchange presents? Jack had already left the few gifts he'd arranged for with Phil; though Aster's was actually quite private and back in the Warren.

Brooding took up the time until North returned, stomping loudly to get snow and ashes off his boots. "Very cold out tonight," he said, and glanced over at Jack.

"Not my doing. But if the others keep this up, I might be busy." There was winter, and then there was _winter_ , and this was starting to threaten to head too far the wrong way. Maybe he'd just notify Maeve or Shay. It'd be kind of nice to retire from the monster fighting business... Semi-retire. Be too boring if he just went cold turkey.

"Ah." North tossed his coat at one of the yeti. "Well-"

Something slid across the window, blocking it entirely.

Jack whipped his staff up and around, and backed away to the center of the room. Aster was a warm, reassuring presence to his left; North and Tooth were to the right, and Sandy was above.

The walls creaked and groaned as whatever it was continued, likely around the entire building. That was not a good thought; he wished he hadn't had that thought. It was barely possible, thanks to the lights inside, to see a faint impression of... Well. The thing blocking the window.

Jack had no idea what they were, but they looked a bit like plates, each one as wide as his arm, and a dark, reflective color, possibly gray.

The thing stopped moving, though the walls continued to protest.

The door slammed open, and a silver and violet blur raced across the room to slam into Jack's chest.

He stumbled back into Aster, who thankfully caught them both.

" _Maeve_?"

The Winter Lady, the most powerful Unseleighe and ruler over all of winter, giggled and beamed up at him. "Triplets!"

Ah, that explained the somewhat rounded stomach. "Ah..."

"Thank you!" She grabbed both his ears, yanked, and kissed him. Her fangs cut open his bottom lip, and it was a good thing he was too shocked to react automatically, because otherwise she might've gotten her face slashed open.

"Alright, dear, alright, let him go, there's my lass." Shay tugged on Maeve's braid, and grinned at them all. "Hello there. I'm Shay, this is Maeve, Jack did us a favor some months ago that's paid off wonderfully. The blood worked." Shay looked down at Maeve, who had transferred her amorous attention to his neck and shoulder. "Clearly."

Jack wondered, in the back of his mind, if his _thing_ for chewing on Aster's neck came from the Unseleighe blood he'd absorbed. "Shay? Who blocked off the window?"

"George. He can't give anyone a hug, so he's... giving the building a hug." Shay frowned, and shrugged. "I suppose I have to explain now, don't I?"

"Just a bit," Tooth suggested, "and preferably now."

"A good thing a Master Bard is always willing to speak, is it not?"

* * *

"You need to stay out of the Warren for the next bit."

"What? _Why_?"

"My eggs need painted, mate, and you're very distracting."

"It's called restraint. I'm sure we both can practice it."

"Or you could go out and wreak havoc with all the humans still able to see you, I could paint my eggs, and when Easter's done you could come back and we could..."

"... Well. When you put it that way... I'll see you in a few weeks."

* * *

Easter was officially over, both sides of the International Date Line agreed. Jack slunk into the Warren, fingers twitching against his staff. It'd been a long month; surprisingly so. And not just because of the lack of sex. He missed _Aster_ , who hoarded furniture automatically and laughed when Jack complained about it, who grinned like a sop, who helped Jack tease North... Aster, who, face it, was the source of Jack's emotional stability. Always had been.

The past month had been _horrible_.

At least no one would expect to see them for a few weeks. Aster, apparently, slept a great deal after Easter. He'd sleep a bit less, now; Jack intended to see to _that_.

Well. Maybe he'd just curl up around his sleeping partner and keep him company. When Aster woke up, then Jack could get him short on sleep again.

Aster was amazing to watch when he slept.

And there was the Pooka in question. He was sitting, slumped back against a tree, looking exhausted.

"Why are you still awake?" Jack left off the stalking, and walked openly up to Aster. He stopped just out of reach, and leaned on his staff. "I'd have thought you'd be in the nest."

Aster took a deep breath, and smiled up at him. "Thought about it. Wanted to wait for you."

That was sweet. "Bed time. After..." Jack grinned, and looked Aster over. "Well, we have a lot to catch up on."

* * *

"I want you in me."

Aster's eyes bugged out, and his hands clamped down on Jack's hips. "What?" he croaked.

Jack frowned. "Did I stutter? You. In me. I want."

That was, this was- "You on top?"

"We'll see."

He could not get the lube fast enough.

* * *

He wasn't vain, and in the normal course of things gaining weight was a good thing. Especially with how scrawny he was. But, Jack thought, this was the third pair of pants in two months, and they didn't fit. _Again_.

He pulled them off and threw them at the wall. Just in time for Aster to walk in, in fact.

"Jack?"

"They don't fit."

"Ah." Aster sighed, and wrapped his arms around Jack's shoulders. "So you need a new pair. Not the end of the world."

"It's just..." Oh, hell, did his voice waver? It did. "I don't _like_ getting new pants."

"Shh, mate, there you are." Aster pulled back, and looked him over quite obviously. "I like you gaining weight, means... Huh." He reached down and cupped the curve of Jack's stomach. "Scrawny arms-"

"Hey!"

"Not so scrawny stomach."

Jack hissed, and glowered down at himself. That was the problem, he didn't have a flat stomach anymore, though you'd think with how active he was there'd be some muscle definition, instead of... Ah...

"Aster," he said. "I forgot the tea."

The Pooka froze, and stared at the curve of his stomach with wide eyes. "Oh."

He'd forgotten the _tea_. The contraceptive tea. Oh, hell... "I'm going to be a _mother_..."

Fainting was completely justified.

* * *

Shay kept all amusement from his expression and voice. "How long does a Pooka pregnancy normally last?"

The small crowd- Sanderson, Toothiana, Nicholas, several yeti, and one very confused elf- all leaned forward expectantly. Bunnymund glared at them, and tucked the blanket around Jack's shoulders. Now that Shay's examination was finished, neither Pooka nor spirit cared to leave anything between Jack's chin and his ankles exposed.

"About seven months here on earth, give or take a week. Never did the proper calculations to figure just how long, before."

It had never mattered, before. Shay was a suspicious man; as Maeve's King and assassin, he had to be. It was somewhat odd that the first Womb of Winter in several thousand years first, be human, and second, be _this_ particular human. The Unseleighe kept note of children, the world over, those that had been touched by magic most of all. The magic-touched had the hardest lives, generally; those too smart, too creative, too _gifted_ to make their kindred easy. In some families, those gifts were encouraged, if not understood. In others, all too often, those gifts were suppressed. With violence of word or deed, it mattered not, only the stifling of the gift.

Those children, Maeve's Court stole away, to be raised by Unseleighe that cosseted and cherished those children, those gifts. It was said that the Fae could not _create_ , only _copy_ , and that was, for the main, true. Some few Fae had _a_ gift- Shay with his bard-craft, for instance, or Eoghan of the Lawful Summer Court and his paintings.

Jack had been touched by magic from an early age, magic that had shaped him ever after. Had his parents mistreated him, even slightly, Shay would have been the first to snatch him away from mortal kind. Instead, his kindred had not understood his obsession with fun, but had indulged it all the same. As long as his work was done, he could play as much as he liked. So, they had left him where he was, and when he had died- the lesser Fae had poor attention spans, and there were many, many children, with very short lives. The Unseleighe watching the boy had sighed a little in regret, turned away, and none had ever realized that the minor sprite by name of Jack Frost had been one they coveted but a decade before.

And yet. And yet. Shay could read magic the same way he read sheet music, and to him the magic that had touched Jack was clear. Moon-magic, old and older; from raising Jack to Frost, and then earlier, from just after birth. Had the Moon sought to gift Bunnymund a mate, and so marked the boy from the beginning?

Shay turned the possibility over in his mind, while he busied his hands in packing up his instruments. No, he decided. There were few that knew the spells required to ensure a new spirit born was of winter, let alone ensure they had that most precious of gifts, Fertility. The Unseleighe god of Autumn, the Trickster, _he_ knew. Presumably his mate, the Goddess of Winter and Death, knew as well.

Could the Trickster have marked Jack? _That_ would be like the god, Shay knew; The Trickster had always been fond of Bunnymund, or so he had ascertained. But the Trickster was not the sort to arrange things. Rather, he was the kind who set things in motion and then watched things fall as they would. If Jack, born again as a Womb of Winter and one powerful enough to survive a pure spirit without believers, took Bunnymund as a mate, well and good. And if not? Well, Jack would ever be welcome in the Unseleighe courts, and not just for his Fertility.

"Seven months," he said, mind settling. Yes, he would blame Jack's gift upon the Trickster. The Moon no doubt had some plan, some goal, but the Moon did not concern itself with aught but protection of Earth's children. Shay had oft wondered if the Moon even knew about genders, or how little humans came to be born.

"Maybe eight," Bunnymund admitted.

"Then I would judge, Jack, that you are perhaps a third of the way through. There is only one child within you. Gender, I cannot tell as yet."

Bunnymund scowled and hunched over Jack. The winter spirit, for his part, looked somewhat more relaxed.

"Pooka genetics would be more dominant," Bunnymund said. He caressed Jack's arm, and Shay watched on with pleasure and no little delight when Jack leaned into the touch.

As a healer, he delighted in seeing wounds close over and fade. Mental, physical, they were all the same to him.

"Perhaps that might be it. I cannot speak for your species, Guardian of Hope, but among Unseleighe gender is the last physical trait to be fully determined."

He got a few odd looks at that. "I thought Unseleighe weren't- that is-" Toothiana blushed. "According to Jack there was that fuss over him being, um..."

"Fertile?" Shay suggested. "That is true. Mind, for a winter spirit, he is quite _normal_ , save for that." Even Shay could get pregnant, if he underwent the treatment as described in Jokul's book. He had no desire to, though; he was devoted, utterly, to his Queen. "There have been other spirits in Winter with such a gift, and then of course those who took lovers outside their season." He did not, quite, look at Bunnymund. But the implication was obvious. "There have been children in the Unseleighe court. Few, mind, but they have been born- else how would there _be_ an Unseleighe court?"

He suspected part of the infertility was that, to put it bluntly, everyone was related. Closely. Shay and Maeve were the most distantly related of pairings, and even they could be considered second cousins. Most of the court was close enough related to count everyone as sibling; even if there were fertile pairings, would you want to procreate with one that might be your brother or sister?

"So Jack will be fine," Nicholas declared.

"Aye. Until the birth." Now Shay allowed himself a wry little smile. "I fear, Jack, you will have to undergo a cesarean section." He had a womb, but no way to give birth.

Jack nodded, as though he had expected such an announcement. Bunnymund, however, looked two seconds away from attacking Shay with tooth and claw.

Such a thing would be foolish. Shay was Unseleighe, a predator. Even without his species' gift of impossible strength, he could hold his own long enough to bring his teeth to bear.

"Hey." Jack wrapped one hand around Bunnymund's wrist. "I'll heal up without a scar. Besides, it'll be faster than going through contractions would be."

Shay nodded in agreement. "What would you prefer?" he asked Bunnymund. "That your mate be in pain for several _days_? Or mere hours?"

Not that Jack _could_ give birth by conventional method. Detailing such a thing would be embarrassing for everyone, however, so Shay would hold his tongue.

Bunnymund subsided, however, with little more than a grumble. "Fine. I don't have to like it."

Shay picked up his bag. "I will return in a month's time," he said. "Should you have need of me sooner than that..." He pulled an amulet out of his belt pouch. It was a small crystal strung on a silver chain; somehow, a thin braid- made of nine strands of hair in total- had been sunk into the center of the crystal. Three of the hairs were white, six were black, and all had come from his head. "Warm this in a fire, it will bring me to your presence immediately."

Jack was the one who accepted the amulet, but perhaps Bunnymund was still cranky over learning his mate would need to go under the knife. Shay could not blame him. After all, Maeve would have to do the same; she could not afford to spend hours or days in labor, and with triplets...

He sighed, and headed to the infirmary door, politely turning down an offer of a drink from Nicholas. Alcohol was as hard on an Unseleighe's stomach as meat was on a Pooka's.

"In a month's time," he told Nicholas and Toothiana. "Sanderson, perhaps we might speak of several children I have noticed, dreaming of an escape from their homes? I would know what your feelings are to a... Hm. Rescue?"

* * *

'Giving birth' had been as easy as drinking a potion Shay gave him, and falling asleep.

When he woke, he felt the difference immediately. His insides felt a whole lot squished, for one thing. For another, no one was using his bladder as a football anymore. The little knot of life and movement that had been romping around behind his navel wasn't there anymore.

Strangely, he missed it. Watching the phone books get kicked off his stomach had been kind of fun.

On the _other_ hand, maybe now he could go more than an hour without having to pee.

There was a dull ache low in his abdomen, just between his hip bones, but either it was already mostly healed or he was on really good drugs, because he didn't care. Possibly both, considering how quickly he healed combined with a Master Healer's attention.

"Hey," Aster murmured.

"Hey." Jack opened his eyes, and blinked until things got less fuzzy.

The infermary was empty. He hadn't been expecting that. He'd thought North, Tooth, Sandy, that they'd all be keeping Aster company and cooing over the baby.

"I chased them out a few hours ago," Aster said. "Shay showed me and Phil how to get the formula ready, and then I got our little nursed and back asleep."

Formula, right. Jack could carry a baby, but he couldn't nurse one. "Easy enough?"

" _She_ ," Aster said, and grinned, "took to the bottle like a champ."

"Help me sit up," Jack said. "Then hand her over."

His stomach _had_ to be mostly healed from the incision. It didn't hurt at all to sit more or less upright, reclining against a mound of pillows. It ached some, but Jack had felt worse pain and really, at the sight of his daughter, it was all worth it. Especially since he hadn't been awake for the worst of it.

"Hey there," he murmured, and took the little girl very carefully from Aster. She was small enough to be held in one hand, but he cradled her in the crook of an arm, just in case. She had the look of a Pooka, but all scrunched up and _tiny_. Completely furless, which honestly surprised him; he'd been expecting a few tufts at least. Five fingers on each hand, and five toes on each foot, and a little stub of a tail that looked kind of silly at the moment. Her little ears were flat down against the back of her neck, and her eyes were scrunched closed.

"She's showing the human more than I expected," Aster murmured, and traced one careful finger over their daughter's arm. "Bit longer than would be normal, same with the legs. Ears are a little shorter. What a beaut."

Jack was even more careful when he traced his fingers over the itty bitty head. His claws were much sharper, after all. "When will she get fur?"

"In a week or so. Pink skin, so I'm thinking she'll be a pale girl. Maybe like her- mother."

Jack grinned, and turned to nuzzle his nose into the fur on Aster's shoulder. "I don't mind being called mother. It's true, after all."

Aster sighed, and rested his chin on top of Jack's head. "You can't carry any more of our kits, mate."

"What? Why?" Jack frowned. "It's not like it was hard." Certainly the pregnancy hadn't been like the horror stories he'd overheard women talking about. He hadn't even had much by way of morning sickness.

"When Shay cut you open... I'll carry them from now on, okay? No need for knives then." Not with shape shifting.

Jack sighed, and rolled his eyes. "Well, you can carry the next kit, how's that? Then we'll talk. See if you want to do it again after someone's used _your_ liver as a punching bag. How much did she weigh?"

Aster chuckled, and got properly into bed, instead of just kneeling beside Jack. "Five pounds. Bigger than Pooka kits normally run. I blame you."

"Me?" Jack leaned a little to the side against Aster. "I'm smaller than you are. Clearly, it's your fault."

"Mm. So, we going to name our kit?" Aster cupped his hand over Jack's, shielding their daughter. "Going with what we decided?"

"Roswitha?"

Aster nodded.

Roswitha; Jack's mother's name, close enough to Aster's mother's name- Rose- to make no difference.

"Hallo, meine Tochter, meine Roswitha. Es ist gut, Sie endlich kennenzulernen." Jack closed his eyes, and leaned back against the pillows. Aster murmured something- probably the same something- in a language Jack had never heard before. It was musical, and the warmth and love in his voice was enough to bring tears to Jack's eyes.

Mate against his side, daughter in his arms, Jack let himself sleep. Everything else could wait until the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you KNOW I had to give them a baby after setting up the whole Womb of Winter thing. So yup, they get a daughter, and future children later on.
> 
> Pennyroyal tea really was used as a contraceptive (mildly poisonous plants typically were), however it had to be taken regularily. Forget, and you got the baby. And no, just because Jack has a womb doesn't mean he can squeeze the baby out; his body didn't even go into contractions. However, fast healing and a Master Healer means a c-section was about as tricky and painful as a twisted ankle, and over much faster.
> 
> Yes, this is the last chapter. I'm going to be working on ANOTHER trilogy, so keep your eyes out in the next couple days.


End file.
